From the Depths of Darkness
by Vallory Russups
Summary: Necromancer!Harry.Slash.Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursley household.Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time.How does his relationship with his parents and the people around him progress with the war around them?Harry/multi HPLM HPLV
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. See how his life will turn out when he acquires an unusual guardian, crazy friends and a feared ability. Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**Chapter 1**. Poetic Tragedy

A year passed since the memorable evening when Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall doomed young Harry Potter to living with a human farmhouse. A horse, a walrus and a colourful beach ball, which was slowly but steadily becoming more like a pig, hated their unexpected relative with passion surpassing even that of Voldemort.

Luckily, Harry was still just a baby and physically unable to do the chores he would otherwise be made to do. Still, the main reason why the extent of the neglect and abuse he had to experience wasn't as big as it could be was because of the strange things happenings everywhere around the child.

Of course, Petunia and, consequently, her husband Vernon knew about the wretched boy's magic and what it entailed. The woman, after all, had to grow up with her freakish sister, and, no matter how much she hated them, she was pretty used to the frequent displays of accidental magic. What she wasn't used to, however, was the sight of dead and rotting creatures roaming around the house.

Even with their general disgust and ignorance regarding the Wizarding world, the Dursleys knew that it wasn't normal even for _them_.

It wasn't normal to wake up to the chirping sounds of the previously dead parrot, which had been bought to their lovely Dudders on a whim and which everyone had been forgetting to feed. It wasn't normal to have half-rotten mice and other rodents running around the house on their little feet, making small sounds day and night and disturbing whatever guests the Durseys wanted to invite. It wasn't normal to see their garden dead and completely grey-coloured one day, only to find it filled with blooming flowers the next morning. It wasn't normal to feel afraid, no, _terrified_, of a small child, who could barely walk on his two feet and had a long road ahead of him to reach the table.

Wasn't it ironic that the family that had always strived for normal life could never have it? Now, all their neighbours avoided the Dursleys like plague. Wherever the family went, people whispered behind their backs about the strange occurrences in the household. Petunia couldn't trade gossip with her so-called 'friends', as they were offended and insulted at not being invited to her house anymore. Vernon's job hung by a thread, because he, too, couldn't hold proper dinner parties with investors and all kinds of influent people.

Out of the inhabitants of the house only Dudley was lucky enough to more or less avoid all this social assault and be able to lead the life of a happy toddler. Although he was constantly frightened by dead animals and insects. They had taken a great dislike towards him and were the cause of numerous accidents, during some of which he was seriously hurt.

All in all, the life of the family changed drastically in such a short span of time, going from peaceful and quiet to chaotic and hazardous. No one knew when it would all stop, but the patience of one Vernon Dursley was on the verge of ending.

XXX

"I'm sorry, Vernon, old friend, but I _have_ to fire you." The director's voice was apologetic and his eyes were staring at the stunned man in front of him with something akin to pity.

"B-but-" Vernon spluttered, unable to utter a single coherent word.

"There are certain rumours," the man behind the desk said and shook his head. It was truly a shame that he had to fire one of his best workers, but it had to be done. "Some of them are quite entertaining. And amusing. However, when I have to hear about people not wanting to conduct business with a dabbling in witchcraft demon's spawn, it's not something I can easily ignore, you know."

"A demon's spawn!"

"-When so many people talk about the matter," the director looked up piercingly to meet Vernon's eyes. "One has to wonder if there is a seed of truth to these rumours, after all."

"Y-you believe this gossip more than me?" Vernon's tiny eyes were wide with disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from one of his childhood friends. "We have known each other for years!"

The director sighed and rubbed his temples. He had known it wouldn't be easy. "Our company works with _people_, Vernon. And if they don't want you here, I'm sorry to say it, but you are of no use to us."

Disbelief changed to anger and Vernon could feel his face heating up. He knew who was responsible for this. Who was to blame for all their misfortunes. This little shit had managed to spoil all their perfect _normal_ life and he was going to pay for that. Vernon would see to it.

The director watched warily as his ex-subordinate's face went all red from rage and pig eyes filled with deep hatred. He certainly hoped that his old friend wasn't directing all this loathing at him.

"I have to ask you to clear up your working space now. The money has already been transferred to your account," he said finally.

Vernon gave a curt nod and left. His fists were clenching and unclenching and he wanted to badly hurt this abomination, which ruined his life so completely.

XXX

Petunia was watching television when she heard Vernon's car pull to a stop at the driveway. She frowned at that. Her husband was usually the one to work till as late as possible to earn more money for their dear little angel, even if it meant working at weekends sometimes.

Coming from work so early was out of character for him and it made her feel wary. Her suspicions only increased as Vernon stormed into the house with the expression of someone ready to commit a murder.

"Umm, dear? Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly. The question 'And why are you at home so early?' was left unsaid, but both heard it anyway.

"Where is the freak?" he bellowed instead of answering. His eyes glinted with righteous fury and Petunia thought that he wouldn't hesitate to hit her if she came in the way of whatever he was planning. Still, she had to try.

"In the cupboard, where he should be. He won't be able to escape the place, hopefully. And there are no rodents there to gnaw on the locks, like it happened with the second bedroom. Why?" She tried to move in front of the staircase. Sure, she hated the boy and wanted him dead, but she wouldn't let her husband go in jail for the little eyesore. She would help Vernon plan the murder so that it couldn't be linked to them in any way. She had to preserve what was left of her respectable lady status.

Now, though, Vernon wasn't able to think about planning and careful preparations because he just wanted this menace to be _gone_.

He roughly shoved Petunia to the ground. In his deranged state he didn't even care about his wife's surprised cry of pain or the fact that she could have broken a couple of her bones with the force he had pushed her. The man forcefully knocked the door of the cupboard down and froze at what was inside.

The two-and-a half-year-old child was sitting on the dirty mattress and was curiously watching the spiders dance on the floor in front of him. He looked up when he heard the noise and fascination in his eyes changed to confusion as he watched his Uncle stand in the doorway.

Vernon's mouth was agape like that of a fish and he honestly didn't know what to do. All his anger evaporated and pure animalistic _fear_ took its place. He remembered what the boy was. Petunia had stood up by now and, rubbing her aching back, scrambled to the door to see what had her husband so startled. When she saw the insects, she let out a horrified gasp.

It wasn't just one spider dancing, no. That would probably be quite ordinary for their unnatural nephew. The entire floor was filled with the little creatures, which now began to escape the confines of the dark cupboard.

For the first time Petunia realized that maybe they shouldn't have left the boy locked in hopes of starving him to death. Next time they should probably place him somewhere where there was no life _at all_. Their assassination attempt would have had more chances to succeed this way.

Well, they would deal with the problem after they have cleared the entire place of the spiders, who now seemed to be literally everywhere. They were on the walls and on the floor, on the expensive furniture and on the precious frames with Dudley in them.

Both Dursleys forgot all about the boy as they tried to kill off as many insects as possible. Vernon stomped on them with his enormous feet and his face was all red from the physical efforts he wasn't used to doing. Petunia wasn't faring much better. She took off her pink fluffy slippers and tried to destroy the spiders crawling on the nearest wall, letting out a battle cry with each hit.

All this time Harry was watching his two relatives with enjoyment and childish mirth dancing in his eyes, and clapped in his hands. One of his particularly loud giggles drew attention of the winded Vernon Dursley. The man stopped mid-motion and hatefully glared at the boy. The bastard was laughing at them!

"You! Stop it this instant!" he hollered and the walls shook from the sheer force of the cry.

Harry's giggle died in his throat as he stared at his relatives in incomprehension. He couldn't honestly understand why these people didn't have fun as he did. So, with his confusion, eventually the spiders started dropping dead again because there was no emotion and magic to fuel them anymore.

The Dursleys were once again preoccupied with dodging the tiny bodies falling at them from the ceiling to pay any real attention to what Harry was doing. And right now the boy tried to escape from the cupboard. He had realized that, somehow, these two weren't happy, and it never ended well for him when they were in such a peculiar mood.

"Where are you going, boy!" the horse-faced woman shrieked. She tried to go after him but Vernon beat her to it. He grabbed Harry by the collar of Dudley's old shirt and smashed his fist right in the boy's face.

Harry cried out in pain. He felt as if his face was one huge bruise, not unlike those on his ribs and arms. The obese man hit him a couple of times more before the boy lost his consciousness. Encouraged, Vernon tried to deal the last blows, and his wife's cheers resonated in his ears together with the sound of his rapidly beating heart.

He lifted his hand to punch the freak once more, eager to get rid of this menace. Only…

The fist crashed into the invisible wall right in front of the boy and Vernon howled in pain, cradling his damaged hand.

"Vernon!" Petunia gasped and rushed to his side. She looked at her husband's red knuckles and began moaning about how hurt he must be feeling. "Oh, dear, Vernon. Don't you worry, my sweet, Petunia will take care of your injury, don't worry. Everything will be all right, everything will be okay…"

The walrus slapped her hand away from him and scrambled to his feet. He glared hatefully at the boy he had dropped in his pain.

"It's all this freak's fault! All of it!" He tried to step on the boy but the wall was still there. He turned to his wife. "This fucking old man told us about these 'wards' or something, didn't he?"

Petunia nodded, uncertain about where this was going. "Yeah. When he left _it _on our doorstep. He wrote about them in the letter."

Vernon smiled sinisterly. "We cannot kill the abomination, but we can get rid of him. Now, I'll take the thing to London's suburbs and dump him there." He frowned when Petunia looked hesitant. "What's up, Pet? Don't you think it's brilliant?"

His wife nodded vigorously. "You will make me the happiest woman on earth if you manage to put him out of our hair. But… don't you fear that the car will get dirty with his dark powers?"

The man patted her back reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, Pet. After this is over, we will buy a new car and a new home in a different neighbourhood. And we will become the family we have always wanted to be. _Completely normal_."

He squeezed the woman's hand and she smiled.

Yes, their life would be perfect after that. She was sure of it.

XXX

Augustus Rookwood swore loudly as he Apparated to the place he didn't quite recognize. Well, obviously it was slums of some city, judging by the shady people around and dirty buildings. The man sneered and covered his brown hair with the hood of his cloak. Luckily, he had remembered to cast a notice-me-not charm on himself so that the muggles wouldn't discern his presence.

Clearly, his efforts were unnecessary. The muggles living here were too engaged in their own dubious activities to give a damn about what other people were doing. Augustus cast a glance at a junkie slut bargaining with a drug dealer about the price of the pills. When the man let out a coarse laugh and grabbed the woman's thighs, the wizard sneered and turned away from the disgusting sight.

Muggles. He couldn't understand how someone could sympathize with the creatures sunk so low.

He thought about his Master, now presumably dead. Lord Voldemort was the only person in their time that had enough guts to stand up for blood purity ideals, a feat not even the most renowned pureblood families had managed to accomplish. It was much easier, after all, to stand aside and lament at how unfair things were and about their prejudiced society instead of actually doing something.

The Rookwood family was average enough and none of the members stood out in anything. They were well off, but not outstandingly so. They were smart, but their intelligence was that of a regular Ravenclaw. Their looks were also nothing much; most of the Rookwoods had brown hair and eyes to match. They didn't even have an affinity for either Light or Dark magic and preferred to stay neutral in most wars.

Until Augustus came, anyway.

The man managed to get into the Department of Mysteries and become an Unspeakable to spy for their Lord. He wasn't exceptional and wasn't high up enough to know the darkest secrets of the Ministry. Nevertheless, he had an access to the underground laboratories, where he had managed to create quite a few of strong useful spells and inventions.

Augustus had no doubt that their Master would return one day and he had to be prepared for it. He wanted to be different from all those arrogant fools grovelling at his Lord's feet. The fact that he craved His approval just as much didn't count.

The brown-haired man was just escaping the dark alley when his attention was snapped to the roaring sound of engine. A moment later he saw a fat ugly man coming out of the car. The man bore an exceptional resemblance to a walrus with his brown moustache. In his hands he held a bundle of blanket, out of which strands of black hair peered.

What intrigued Augustus most, however, was the glare full of loathing that the man sent to the child (?) in his arms.

"Now you will die here, freak," the walrus muttered, placing the bundle on the pavement near the wall. He disregarded the puddle nearby and almost kicked the boy, but then froze in fear, watching something in the far end of the alley.

Augustus turned to look in that direction, too. Yet he was disappointed. There stood nothing more than a foul-smelling rat. Its red eyes were fixed on the obese man, who gulped when the rodent came closer with a predatory grace.

"W-what?" the walrus stuttered. "A good ratty, good. You will not touch old Vernon, right? Look, there is this freak full of tasty meat for you, just don't touch me, please."

The man, Vernon, continued backing out until he felt the cool stone of a wall. Suddenly, there appeared one more rat, from the other corner of the alley. Then another. And again. Vernon broke out into sweat. Augustus watched with fascination how the events will unfold.

Vernon's strangled outcry seemed to be a signal of some kind. All rats in the alley attacked him, tearing into his flesh. The man screamed in unbearable pain and tried to shake them off but didn't succeed. There were more of them than he had originally thought.

A few minutes later the man was nothing more than a mess of blood and meat and bones. The rats stopped and then abruptly dropped dead all at once.

Augustus was left staring at the pile of flesh and red liquid. He blinked and shook it off. It wasn't his business to know how muggle rats behaved. Maybe, the man had poison in his system. Or, maybe, it was normal for them. Who knew?

The man couldn't help being curious, though, and he kneeled in front of the bundle. Lifting the colourful blanket, he gasped in surprise at the child's face. The boy was sleeping soundly, his breathing so soft it was almost inaudible. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be in pain, having a nightmare, probably.

Most prominent, however, was the angry red scar against the pallor of his skin.

Augustus felt rage consume him. _This_ was the reason for their Lord's downfall. The reason why he, Rookwood, had to hide in such a filthy places since his status as a Death Eater was discovered. The reason he had lost the only person who saw some worth in him. The reason most of the Dark purebloods were now hunted, and anyone from a remotely Dark family was sent to Azkaban, just for being who they were.

The child was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Even-Fucking-Die. The cause of all their pain and misery and unhappiness.

Augustus raised his wand, Avada Kedavra on his lips, but stopped abruptly. No, it wouldn't do for the boy to die swiftly. He didn't deserve it one bit. Augustus Rookwood would make him pay for all the inconvenience the child had caused. And he knew a way to do it.

One of the spells he had invented made a person experience pain worse than Cruciatus every second of their life. He had gotten the idea after reading about Norse snakes, whose venom, even a drop of it, caused unbearable pain to the person ingesting it. The wizard named it the Loki curse and was proud of his invention.

True, he hadn't tested it and didn't know whether it would work. Not to mention that it was a recent invention. Still, he had to try.

With a spiteful glint in his brown eyes the man raised his wand and spoke the spell.

A second later his eyes widened when he remembered to have made a mistake in the Arithmancy formula, which he hadn't corrected yet. It was too late to do anything, though, and the resulting violent explosion was a proof of it.

XXX

_Year 1960_

Marie let out a contented sigh as she had just finished shopping for the orphanage. She knew that children weren't allowed to eat much or to eat good food. So, she also had had to use her own money to buy some additional sweets. It wasn't much, she knew, but children would be happy all the same.

The matron wasn't a bad woman, since she had been an orphan herself and fully understood what it was like to be despised and looked down on. Unfortunately, their funds were low and they could afford only the bare minimum. The caretakers even had to sometimes deny themselves decent clothes to buy the children second hand winter coats.

Humming under her breath, Marie started walking towards St. Paul's Orphanage. She was lucky the place was near; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to carry all these heavy bags. She didn't have enough money for any means of transport and always had to go on foot. Sometimes her acquaintance, an old man working at the factory, agreed to lend her his old truck. In these rare instances she could close her eyes and dream about expensive things, luxurious life and endless riches. If only her wish came true.

It was already quite dark when she neared the orphanage and saw a child right in the middle of the road. Appalled at the person who could abandon their kid in such a dangerous place, she dropped her bags and ran to the bundle of blankets.

It was a sleeping boy, who didn't look like he could have walked even if she had woken him up. Marie hesitated. She didn't want to leave the precious food here, but she was also afraid of leaving the child on the road, where a car could easily run him over.

She made her choice and placed the bags in the nearest bushes, opting to come for them later. The woman lifted the boy and made way towards the run down building. The child was light and she had no problem in carrying him.

"Marie! Why so long?" a plain-looking woman asked with a displeased expression. "Do you have no shame?"

"Children have been waiting for their food,." another, older woman, joined. "You know we couldn't buy them anything yesterday and they had to eat only bread for two days…" She trailed off, looking at what Marie was holding in her arms.

"I'm sorry; I understand it was selfish of me to take so much time…" Marie smiled hesitantly and gestured at the boy "Umm, we have an addition, as you see."

The old woman, the matron probably, came closer and grabbed the boy. "Such a beautiful child…" she muttered. "Are you sure he was abandoned?"

"I… I don't think any good parent will leave their child in the middle of the road to die."

The matron looked at her sharply. It was one thing to get rid of the child, but it was inhumane to kill him. She looked at the quilt and saw the letters HJP engraved in golden stitching.

"HJP?" she read out loud. "Must be his initials." It was strange that the boy's clothing was so ragged and second hand, and the blanket was of fine material.

"Should we name him?"

"Obviously, we can't call him by a letter," the matron snapped, irritated.

"How about Hadrian James? Sounds nice enough to me," offered the plump woman who had greeted Marie. Her face was clearly disinterested. She was used to getting new kids, after all.

The matron pondered on it. "All right," she finally said. "Hadrian James it is. Any suggestions about his surname? Marie? Kate?"

"Umm… Paradis?" Marie timidly offered.

"God, Marie, you are so sentimental sometimes." Kate sneered. "You can't just go around giving your surname to the orphans."

"It's just that it matches his initials and…" Here Marie's voice lowered into a whisper. "You know I wouldn't live for much longer. I want my father's surname to be passed down."

Kate's eyes softened and she looked at her fellow caretaker pityingly. Everyone here knew that the woman had some kind of weird disease and would live for only a couple of years longer. Marie was pretty useless, but the matron spared her and had given her a work here. From that moment they decided to keep her around to do some odd jobs and run errands. And children liked her, too.

"Hadrian James Paradis," the matron murmured. "Not bad. Hope he will get along with other children."

Unfortunately, her hopes wouldn't come true.

**Not much of Harry in the first chapter. The next one, however, will be all about him and his life in the orphanage. And how it was affected by his necromantic abilities. Hope you liked it. **


	2. Chapter 2 A Strangled Dream

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. See how his life will turn out when he acquires an unusual guardian, crazy friends and a feared ability. Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**AN**: Hi! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Here is the second chapter of my story. The first one was a kind of Prologue, so it was quite short. From now on they will gradually become longer, about 8 000-13 000 words per chapter.

In the beginning Harry will be naïve and a bit foolish in some areas due to his anti-social habits, but also indifferent where other people would eun away screaming. Of course, his character will change throughout the course of the story, when he will meet more people and get rid of his childish naivety. I'm just telling this because in some places he can act thoughtlessly and plain silly.

Initially, I wanted to make this chapter contain all Harry's childhood in the orphanage, but it was becoming too long, so I decided to split it into two parts.

**Warning:** A lot of time-skips!

**Chapter 2. A Strangled Dream. **

"Pass me the ball, Jimmy!"

"Don't be so slow, mate!"

"Ha-ha, loser! Look, he can't even catch it!"

"Hey, you tripped me! Unfair!"

The loud chatter was heard all across the yard. The caretakers were often distracted from doing laundry by the boisterous laughs and occasional victorious cries. Strangely enough, it didn't make them angry. On the contrary, the adorable sight of energetic little boys playing with the ball made many of those women smile fondly. The girls stared too, with dreamy expressions on their faces, especially when their gazes fell on Jimmy Bart, the orphanage's little heart throb, who was basking under all the attention.

Apart from everyone, a little boy of six stared, too, with longing in his eyes. The shade of the large oak he was sitting under hid him from the view and enabled him to observe. The boy, Hadrian Paradis, closed his bright emerald eyes and sighed. He couldn't decide whether to proceed with staring or try to ask the boys if he could participate.

'_I doubt they will acknowledge me. They never do. But maybe something has changed now?'_

He was thinking and wavering and couldn't decide what would be the better course of actions. He had spent an hour there already, contemplating the situation and hesitating. The decision was made for him when Hadrian caught Jimmy's gaze on him. The latter's eyes brightened.

"Look! We were just thinking where to find one more member. Want to play with us?" he asked. Other boys looked at their captain incredulously.

"This-this is Paradis," one of them whispered in a quiet tone that was meant to be whisper but wasn't really one. "Are you mad? We'll be cursed if we let him come anywhere near us!"

Jimmy looked puzzled. "Cursed?" He was a recent addition to their orphanage and didn't know the other children all that well. He associated mostly with the girls hitting on him, and the boys he played football with.

The others nodded vigorously. "Yea, yeah. Milly told me about that one time she asked him on a date and they went into the forest together. She broke her leg there, you know." This caused a horrified gasp from those who hadn't heard this disturbing rumour yet.

Hadrian, who was watching this interaction with growing confusion, furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He couldn't understand what they were talking about and how it was connected with him. Well, she did offend him with her comment about him being girly, but how could Milly's broken leg be his fault? She hadn't seen where she was going and tripped over a rabbit they hadn't noticed before. She was the only one to blame, not Hadrian!

'_Though I wonder if it was a trick of light or if the rabbit was really all bloodied and smelled strangely.'_ He chose to stop thinking about it and shifted his eyes to the boys.

Jimmy had a wary look to him at first, but after he stared the boy in front of him up and down, noting the delicate built, longish black hair framing the pale thin face, he calmed down immediately and scoffed.

"Must be just gossip," he said and shrugged. "He seems so weak that I think it would be impossible for him to break a fly's leg, not to mention Milly's. I wouldn't call her thin by any means." It was true. Hadrian was fragile by nature and the lack of proper food in the orphanage only emphasized the sharp features and frail bones.

The children snickered. "Oh, I wouldn't say that to her face," one of them remarked. "She packs quite a punch when you annoy her. I mean, how old is she? 13? And a leader of a gang to boot."

Jimmy grinned in response and turned to Hadrian. "So, are you in?"

The raven-haired boy smiled timidly and accepted the ball from the hands of one of the boys, who kept a few steps away from him.

Hadrian had never felt this much fun before. He was content to play with the other boys, running and smiling without care in the world. He felt wind in his hair and gave a rare laugh. He thought that he would be the happiest person on earth if only he could do this more often, participate in games, communicate with people. To be accepted by others so easily wasn't something he experienced often and it left a special kind of warmth in his chest, in his very heart.

"Someone, catch the ball! It's heading to the pond!"

Hadrian's attention was diverted from his merry thoughts and he saw that, indeed, the ball was going to land right in the middle of the greenish waters. He frowned. If it drowned, the matron would bite their heads off. He didn't fool himself into thinking that the woman liked him. She would probably place all the blame on himself, and the other boys would go along with it, gladly agreeing to make him a scapegoat.

The matron wouldn't buy them another ball for at least a year, maybe even more. There was no doubt about it. They didn't have enough money to afford toys.

And Hadrian would never feel this acceptance, however reluctant, again.

The small boy felt his heart clench. This was the first time other children were so friendly towards him and the world be damned before he would let anything ruin the moment.

He mentally reached out to the ball and tugged and tugged and tugged. He willed the object to return to them, to _him_. He pleaded with it not to land in the dark waters of the pond, where no one would be able to reach it. Despite the small size, it was quite deep and Kate had even told them that one story about a girl who had drowned there.

No one knew if it was true but Hadrian wasn't willing to chance it.

Miraculously, instead of sinking, the ball was levitated back by invisible force. It landed on the ground with a soft _thud _and slowly began rolling towards stunned Hadrian. The boys all stared; some of the previously watching their game girls curiously came closer.

Hadrian decided to break the silence despite his own astonishment. Hesitantly, he picked up the round object and walked back to the astounded crowd.

"Here," he said and offered a shy smile, which was more like a tentative curl of lips. "I stopped it from falling."

'_I hope they will like me after that if they know it was me.'_

The others stared at him. Hadrian was confused to notice that some of the gazes were frightful or downright horrified. He tilted his head in incomprehension. What had he done wrong? Shouldn't they be pleased he had retrieved their only fun toy? And why were some of them backing away as if they had seen a ghost? Hadrian noticed how Jimmy's toothy grin melted away as if someone suddenly wiped it off with a handkerchief.

"Umm, can we continue playing now?" Hadrian asked, still not understanding what the problem was. Were they all ill? "Aren't you interested in which team will win?" He turned his head to the nearest boy, the one with copper hair.

The boy took a step back under the stare and held up his hands. "N-no, I think w-we should really return now. The d-dinner will be soon." His stammering voice was like a signal, after which everyone present made affirmative sounds, agreeing with him, and scrambled towards the old run down building of the orphanage. Not even one child checked if Hadrian followed.

Admittedly, it hurt. But Hadrian swallowed the pain like he had done many times before. _'At least, this time they included me for a bit,'_ he thought, looking at the ball in his hands.

He had noticed that at least one child's reaction was not aghast but merely curious.

XXX

"Hey, Hadrian, are you ready to go?" Jimmy asked cheerfully, entering the cleanest room in the orphanage.

Hadrian was very lucky to live alone, without a roommate, unlike the other children. Even if it was in the attic. The room was neat and tidy, and Hadrian took time to clean it every day, scrubbing until there were no dirty spots left. On the other hand, his utter lack of possessions made cleaning much easier, and he didn't have a lot of things to clutter the room with. Furniture included a cot to sleep on, a table with a crack on one of its legs and a wardrobe with the little clothing he had.

The room itself was tiny and dark; the only source of light being a small round window, which let only the brightest sun rays in. Usually it happened in the summer. Other seasons Hadrian had to use candles day and night. Seeing that he preferred to spend time here – not many children wanted to play with him outside – such dreary atmosphere didn't help him to become all bright and sunny and social.

Not that people here would like him even if it were the case. For some reason, rumours seemed to appear wherever he went. And not the ones of a positive kind.

"Yeah, Jimmy. You go downstairs, I'll join you in a minute," Hadrian said absently, sending a small smile at the brown-haired blue-eyed boy.

Since that time with the game, Jimmy seemed to have taken a great interest in him. Somehow, the brunet never feared Hadrian's strange abilities, asking him about how they worked instead. Other children hated Hadrian and were scared of him, but Jimmy made effort to insure that the raven-haired boy had someone to talk to and someone to tell his secrets to.

Not that Hadrian did much of the latter, mind you. While the idea of trusting someone was attractive, he honestly didn't know how to tell somebody about what was troubling him, how to give form to the feelings residing inside of him. The boy couldn't imagine the way he could tell a person about his suspicions of being somehow inhuman, of his secret abilities and internal struggle to become more outgoing, without coming across as terribly strange. Stranger than he was now, at any rate.

Hadrian let out a victorious smile as he finally found the ribbon for his shoulder-length raven locks. He tied it at the nape of his neck so that it wouldn't come in the way, and took a black worn coat out of the wardrobe. Squaring his shoulders, the boy deemed himself presentable enough and went downstairs to join the group of other children.

Today they were going to church, as they did every Sunday morning.

When they entered the old building, Hadrian felt peace and serenity consume his whole being. He released Jimmy's hand he had been holding the entire time, and took a step forward to the benches.

Strangely enough, the place had always drawn him. Maybe, it was the odd contrast between the dark interior and the light atmosphere. Maybe, it was the quiet speech of the priest. Hadrian didn't really care about the reason but he knew he liked the feeling.

The matron of St. Paul's Orphanage, Mrs. Rickety, always attended the mass together with the children, as did caretakers. The woman was incredibly religious and if someone didn't agree with the principles of Christianity, she would mercilessly fire them. Or punish, if this person was one of the children.

Hadrian couldn't comprehend how Mrs. Rickety could have such unwavering faith in the God she hadn't even seen, but knew he wasn't in the position to ask. So, he followed others' example, muttered greetings to Father Andrew and sat down on one of the benches, taking a psalm book from the nearest stand.

Soon, they began singing and, after that, they listened to the old priest talking about Christian God, Heaven and Hell. Hadrian entertained himself with thinking and dreaming during the entire speech; sounds lulling him into slumber. Sometimes he traded a few words with Jimmy to avoid falling asleep, but after the matron shushed them, decided to stay silent.

"Such nice children you have in the orphanage, Mrs. Rickety," Father Andrew said with a benign smile. The matron beamed at him.

"Oh, thank you, Father," she said and blushed. It was no secret the widow had liked the man for a long time. "We try our best to make them proper workers and citizens. I have managed to strike a deal with an acquaintance of mine, and you know what? He agreed to let them work at his factory when they are of appropriate age!"

"How wonderful! I'm certain it is something they wouldn't have achieved by themselves." Then the priest's face became thoughtful and he tapped his chin. "You know that my confession booth is always open for you, my dear. I can clear these children of their sins, if you want me to. Not that I think there are many, but..."

"Just in case, yes. I think they will be happy to be cleared, Father," the woman said, nodding.

The children all went to the confession booth one by one. Hadrian was the last and he felt quite nervous. He didn't know what to speak about as he had never done something like that before. His anxiety was a knot in his stomach by the time he entered the booth.

"Umm… Father?" he asked hesitantly in the dark space, sitting on the hard wooden chair.

"My child, you shouldn't be afraid to speak your mind here. It's a place where you can confess anything without being judged for it."

"But I don't think I have committed any sins yet."

"Each one of us is a sinner in a way." Hadrian thought that by the priest's voice he must be shaking his head. "And there is nothing peculiar you wish to tell me about? Nothing that weighs down on your conscience?"

Hadrian thought about it. There _were_ times when he had done unexplainable things he couldn't find an explanation to. This man, the priest, had talked about angels and Jesus Christ. Maybe, Hadrian's strange abilities had something to do with divine forces?

"Actually," he started, "There have been quite a few things happening to me. I haven't found an explanation for even one of them."

"Ooh? How interesting… Explain, my child."

"Well, there was this one time a boy said I looked weak and asked me if I was a girl. Then, he tried to punch me, but I… I made it so his boots caught fire and he was too preoccupied trying to put it out to really hurt me. I don't know how it could happen. There were no sources of fire anywhere near. One second everything was all right and the next – he was screaming and calling for the caretakers." Harry paused to see if Father Andrew was listening. Silence was his answer and the boy took it as a sign to continue.

"Another time something odd happened was when we were having some visitors. They were a man and a woman. The woman went to talk with Mrs. Rickety and the man…" Hadrian didn't know if he wanted to continue. The memory was still enough to make him sick and to make the dark feelings in his heart beg to murder something. He could still feel the hands, the repulsive touches, which couldn't go away no matter how much he showered. The awful feelings of utter helplessness and despair and deafeat; the strongest desire to just die and escape this misery.

"The man seemed rather nice at first," Hadrian carried on. Maybe, if he told this priest about it, those emotions would finally go away. "He even gave me a candy, he did. He asked me to go for a walk with him and I agreed. I had nothing to do that day anyway. We were just walking across the field, on a small trope, when he placed his hands on my shoulders. H-he began saying something about how pretty I am." The boy closed his eyes and willed himself to continue.

'_I need it. Everything will be better afterwards._' The silence in the booth hadn't been broken once. "He began… t-touching me. I was scared and wanted him to go away. I tried to run but he caught me quickly, he was so fast…"

Hadrian's hands trembled and he glared at them for it. The boy inhaled loudly before continuing. "You know, Mrs. Rickety told us about pedophiles and what they do to children. I didn't want him to touch me, so I wished for something to distract him so I could run. A swarm of flies rose from all around us and they flew to him like moths to fire. Only, the fire usually burns the moths, while those got into the man's mouth and ears and nose… I didn't stick around to see what happened to him, I just ran. But I haven't seen him since."

Hadrian finished the story and waited anxiously for Father Andrew to say something, _anything_. He twirled raven locks in his fingers and nibbled on his lower lip, wondering why the priest was so silent.

"Umm… Father Andrew?" he asked hesitantly. Could the man have exited without Hadrian becoming aware of it? It certainly seemed this way. He was too lost in the painful memories to pay any attention to what was happening around him, so he could easily miss the priest's departure.

Hadrian knew he should have felt angry at such obvious dismissal, but he only felt relieved. Now he wasn't so sure if he had done the right thing by telling about those oddities of his. None of the awful feelings he had seemed to go away and he felt cheated. It's not like he didn't trust the man but… just in case.

In the end, the boy shrugged his shoulders and escaped the booth. Jimmy was waiting for him.

XXX

In the evening Hadrian was surprised when the matron came up to his room, clad in a black dress and with a large cross shining on her chest. The boy had just prepared to go to sleep and couldn't understand what did the woman want from him. He had already done his daily share of chores, after all.

"Get up, boy," Mrs. Rickety ordered in a shaky voice. The fear in her eyes made Hadrian wary. She wasn't a woman easily scared, years in an orphanage saw to it. "Get dressed and then we will go together to the church." She left the room before he had a chance to say anything.

Now Hadrian was completely flabbergasted. What could the people of the church possibly want from him? Unless…

His expression turned hopeful. Perhaps, Father Andrew heard him and decided that Hadrian was an apostle of some sort. Or destined to be a priest himself, at least. After all, there wasn't any other explanation for his strange powers, was there? This way he could leave this poor orphanage with its bad food and hand-me-downs, and become a monk, spend his time with books and, occasionally, Jimmy, who would surely come to see him.

The trip to the church was almost silent, save for the rare questions from Hadrian, which were never answered. It was as if the woman walking alongside him turned off all the sound.

"You are right on time." Came the solemn voice of Father Andrew.

Hadrian curiously looked around. The shadows of the night made the usually tranquil atmosphere eerie and threatening. The only source of light was from the dim-lighted torches on the walls. The altar under the huge colourful windows depicting saints, was surrounded by the nuns, who were chanting something under their breath. Probably, a prayer. The priest stood on the uplifted platform, directly behind the altar, facing the newcomers.

"I'll leave it to you, Father," Mrs. Rickety said grimly and, after a nod from the man, left the place, not without casting a final glance at the boy. There was something akin to pity in her eyes and it made Hadrian admittedly uncomfortable.

'_Why did she look at me like that? Is there a reason? She has never seemed to care about me before.'_

"Why have you called me here?" the fragile boy asked uncertainly. Sure, he loved coming to the church during the day, but now all he wanted was to return back to the orphanage, no matter how bored he was there.

Father Andrew looked at him gravely and his eyes carried the wary sadness of a man who had seen too much evil in the world. "My boy, I have certain suspicions about you being," he made a dramatic pause, "possessed by a demon!" All the nuns in the room gasped at the proclamation and crossed themselves frantically.

All Hadrian felt, however, was bewilderment. He had read in the books the matron often made them read, about demons and possessions, and, according to them, the possessed people had gaps in their memory and felt inexplicable urges to hurt others. Hadrian had always been a quiet child, not very talkative, and unbearably shy. The only times he hurt a person were when they truly deserved it, pushing him to his limits and making him lose control of whatever powers were inside of his body.

"I think you are mistaken, Father," Hadrian said quietly. He knew what the clergymen thought about demons, not to mention _did,_ to the people they deemed as such. And it wasn't something he wanted to experience.

"There is no mistake, child!" The man cried out with a fanatical gleam in his eyes, and began to descent from the platform and slowly stalk over to the boy. Hadrian quickly realized by the old man's expression that he had already made up his mind and nothing would convince him of the fault in his thinking. "After what I've heard from you and Mrs. Rickety… She told me how you drown cats and dogs, beat up other children and steal food from the kitchens! Such a kind and noble woman will never lie!"

"What a despicable child!" "He must be punished!" "We must clean him of the demon's influence!" Came the horrified and agitated screams from the nuns.

"I never did that!" Hadrian exclaimed, not wishing to believe that this injustice was real and happening to him right now. "She must have been speaking about Ben Jonathan, the bully! He always hurts other children when they do something he doesn't like! And he-"

The priest grabbed the boy by his collar, effectively silencing him. "I know, it is the demon talking now. A good boy like you should be will never tell such lies and badmouth people!"

Hadrian struggled as Father Andrew roughly dragged him to the altar, which was covered in white linen cloth. The hold was painful, and the boy felt himself suffocating; the man's wrinkly fingers never leaving his tattered shirt. He tried to kick, but one of the nuns took his legs in her hands and refused to let go. Father Andrew adjusted his hold and grasped the boy by the hands instead.

"Don't struggle, child. I swear we will cleanse you of the evil residing in your body!" he told the frightened boy. They placed him on the altar and bound him with the ropes, attached to the four hooks on the sides of the chancel.

"Don't worry, dear, after everything is over you will feel much better," one of the nuns told him kindly with a gentle and reassuring smile, tying a knot on the ropes. Hadrian didn't care what would be after. He wanted to get out of here _now_.

Then they all began chanting something, and the boy wanted to cover his ears to protect them from the sound reverberating all around. The sound was suffocating in its intensity and grated on his nerves so much that it hurt. He felt as if they were strangling him; there was just this _something_ inside his body, his very soul even, that begged him to break free and to stop the chanting this second.

It was a ritual of some kind, Hadrian realized. They were trying to exorcise a 'demon' from him, using this painful, inhumane method. He felt tears stream down his cheek and he couldn't even wipe them off his face, with his hands still bound tightly by the ropes. The ropes were stringing his hands and legs so strongly and painfully that he was sure they would leave ugly red signs, which wouldn't go away for another couple of weeks.

His eyes widened in fear when he saw Father Andrew pull out a knife out of his white robes. _'No, no, pleas, this can't happen, not to me…'_ This deafening thought resonated loudly in his head and managed to drown out even the thunderous mantra.

The knife glinted dangerously in the dim lighting and was the most prominent thing in the whole church. The only other thing that shone just as brightly was the statue of a crucified Jesus above the wide doors. Hadrian was willing to pray to any deity if it meant getting out of here.

"O Lord, Almighty God of our fathers," the priest began, making bizarre passes with his hands. Hadrian somehow managed to drown out the pain of the song to look, as if hypnotized, at the glinting ritual knife moving together with the man's hands. "whom all men fear, and tremble before thy power. Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness!"

There was power behind these words, power both repulsive and strangely enticing. That part of him that hurt the most wanted to be lulled by it, to go wherever the priest wanted it to be directed. The other, more sensible part of Hadrian, warned him against listening, urged him to break the bindings and flee.

"This Childe is being possessed by the servant of Lucifer, the Fallen One; his body hosts the great evil, surpassed only by that of Devil himself. Hear my plea, Almighty Lord, and save this Childe, one of your sons, from the wicked and malevolent powers that want to drink his life and cause the horror among honest people. O God, give me the power to purify this vile body of the foulness it contains!"

The nuns began to quickly undress him and Hadrian couldn't take it anymore. The touch resembled greatly the way that man had touched him. It wasn't a feeling he wanted to experience ever again.

"Please… stop," he whispered brokenly. His words fell on deaf ears as the women had almost finished unbuttoning his shirt by now. Only one of them glanced at him sorrowfully before returning to her chore. "Please, don't do this to me, I beg you!"

He pleaded and begged and beseeched, yet not even one woman spared him a glance anymore. The previously loud chant had lowered to almost a whisper, and Father Andrew was standing above the boy with a victorious grin, which made his wrinkles, as well as other signs of old age, stand out even more.

The shirt was off now and the man lifted his hand with a shimmering knife in it to make a slashing motion across Hadrian's chest.

That was the moment the boy couldn't take it anymore. He screamed and just as the earsplitting sound escaped his throat, the priest finished the ritual with "Amen".

The colourful windows above them exploded and the shards fell on Father Andrew and his nuns.

"Aarghhh!" The scream was deafening and Hadrian could finally cover his ears with his hands, which had been released by the falling glass cutting off the ropes. The black and white figures around him tried to shield their faces, but the smallest pieces managed to get into their eyes anyway. One of the women, the nun who had talked to him gently in the beginning and was standing the farthest from the window, stepped back just in time before a particularly large shard could hit her in the head. Others tried in vain to get away but got slightly injured nonetheless.

Father Andrew's condition was the worst, though. He had been right below the windows when they exploded and his entire body was covered in gashes, some of which went as deep as his bones. The blood under him was pooling up and the sheer quantity of it made Hadrian both sick and fascinated. He had never thought that a human body could contain so much vital liquid, but here was the proof.

The nuns, all but one, were too preoccupied with their own injuries to notice when the man lifted his head from the floor to look Hadrian right in the eye.

"Y-you…" he said in a petrified whisper, raising an accusing finger at Hadrian and staring at him as if the boy were Devil incarnate. This horror-struck expression on the old man's face made the boy's stomach churn with uneasiness. The man didn't say anything else because his eyes rolled into his head and Hadrian felt compelled to close the lids to not see the frightening whites. He fell on his knees and did exactly that.

When he lifted his head, he met the wide eyes of the nun who had suffered the least. His heart skipped a beat. He didn't know how she would view him sitting on the cluttered floor, all bloodied, and with the priest's head in his hands. All others were still struggling to pull the glass shards out of themselves. None of them seemed too hurt, though. Not lethally, at least.

The woman standing in front of him let out a shaky breath. "I won't tell," she promised softly, her eyes pained. Hadrian could feel her fear but he could also feel something akin to resolution coming from her in vibes. "What we tried to do was immoral and inhumane. I'm sorry. We shouldn't have made a child suffer so."

"Thank you," Hadrian said quietly after a moment of having a staring contest with her. The woman nodded simply, still trembling, and turned away.

The boy stood there a few more moments before deciding to return to the orphanage. He washed his hands and face in the consecrated water, thanking God that he hadn't gotten any injuries at all, other than the still echoing sounds of the chant in his ears. After that was done and he was clean again, he grabbed his worn coat and escaped this place, vowing to never go there again. He wondered what excuse would the woman come up with for all these injuries and a death.

XXX

It was almost midnight again and Hadrian was doing maths homework for the next day. The education in the orphanage wasn't obligatory and some children often chose to ignore it or slacked off, opting to learn only the pure basics, like counting and reading. The school they went in was small and the teachers there couldn't be called the epitome of competence or patience. The knowledge gained at school wasn't particularly profound either; the textbooks were too outdated to hold information relevant to the modern world. The graduates usually found it impossible to enter a good university, so working was the best way to start earning money and get a life outside of this dreary place on the outskirts of London.

Hadrian, however, understood the importance of knowledge and how it would help him in life. After all, if you compare the salaries of an average factory worker and a high-qualified specialist, the chances to break free from the orphanage were higher if you were the latter.

And the boy did want to leave this place for good. St. Paul's Orphanage couldn't exactly be called the most horrid place on earth, no. The caretakers and the matron were mostly indifferent to everything, not friendly but, thankfully, not abusive drunkards either. The children had something to eat, even if the food included only a piece of bread and water for breakfast sometimes. The clothing also wasn't rich – each orphan was entitled to have a pair of boots, a couple of shirts and trousers, underwear, pyjamas and a warm winter coat. They wouldn't be allowed in any luxurious restaurant or shop in this kind of clothing, but it was enough to get by.

Most of the children there hadn't known any other life before, so for them it wasn't such an outrage or a tragedy to lead the life different from that of the children of solid middle-class families.

The problem was with the children's character. Some of them came from the families, where the husband was an alcoholic and the wife was a druggie, and the child was mostly neglected until they were taken to the orphanage. Many of them had seen things no _adult_ should ever see, and this left a great impact on their psyche and personality. There were quite a lot of bullies and apathetic children, who either didn't care about anything or hit others to get what they wanted.

Thanks to the rumours flying all around him, Hadrian managed to mostly avoid associating with both categories – and associating in general – but the threat was still there.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Came a voice just behind his ear and the boy whirled around in his chair, peering through the fringe at his best – and only – friend at the orphanage. It was actually forbidden for children to go out of their rooms at late hour, but Jimmy disregarded the rules and went to see the raven-haired boy anyway.

Hadrian smiled brightly at Jimmy and put his almost finished homework away for the time being. "Nothing. Just thinking about Ben Jonathan and the likes. Don't know why he came to my mind."

Jimmy grimaced. "I hate the git," he muttered under his breath, sitting on Hadrian's cot. "Still can't forget the time he stole my birthday pie."

"Don't exaggerate. It was only a large piece of it, not the whole thing," Hadrian said, shrugging. When his friend looked up in irritation for not agreeing with him and opened his mouth to say something, the boy continued. "Though I admit not being overly fond of the guy myself."

"He is nasty. And the caretakers always stand aside when he does something mean. He almost never gets punished. It's so unfair! I wish I could be like that, too."

"You wish to bully other children?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow, feeling apprehensive all of a sudden.

"N-no! How could you think that!" Jimmy exclaimed indignantly and his cheeks tinted red. "I just can't understand why everyone favours him. He's nothing special, I'm sure you can see it, too."

Hadrian nodded. "Isn't it obvious? He always sucks up to Kate, and she lets him do whatever he wants unless it's something really wrong. I think he has too kill someone or steal a very important object for her to punish him."

Jimmy looked thoughtful. "How does he do it? I mean, I've never seen him being too pleasant even with her."

"Ben has a cute face. Women usually love such children, so he doesn't really have to do anything. Just stand there and be adorable and make a teary face. And caretakers usually fall for it." Hadrian paused and added, as an afterthought. "I think you could pull it off, too, if you wanted to."

Jimmy looked strangely excited at his last words. "But how do you know such things anyway? No offend or anything, you are not really outgoing."

"I observe a lot," Hadrian said, shrugging, and decided to continue working on his homework. He never noticed the thoughtful and sly look on Jimmy's face.

XXX

"Let's go, Hadrian!" Jimmy whined in his ear. "It's boring to play with only two of us. We can go join others. It'll be more exciting."

Hadrian winced at the words and tried to hide his hurt at being called boring. "I think they won't be happy if I am there," he murmured softly, remembering the faces the other children in the orphanage regarded him with.

No one had forgotten Milly's broken leg or the strange incident with Father Andrew a couple of months ago. True, officially, some teenagers playing with explosions were to blame, but somehow the rumour got around that he had been there. Hadrian couldn't understand how it got out; the nun's lips were zipped, and he himself had only told Jimmy about it. And Jimmy was his closest friend.

'I'm sure he would never tell somebody my secrets,' Hadrian thought, looking at his friend's flustered face.

"Until they tell you in the face they don't want you around, it's all right, I guess," the brown-haired boy said and waved his hand dismissively. His eyes were glued to the other boys yet again playing with the ball. "We'll be considered hermits, you know. I don't want it. I want to be popular, like Ben."

"I don't think Ben Jonathan is someone worthy looking up to," Hadrian said dryly and looked at the soft grass they were sitting on.

"Everyone likes him. Well, other than the children he bullies. But that's beside the point, I think."

"Don't be so dismissive to other people's pain. It may lead to their need for revenge."

"Don't talk so smartly, Hadrian. You know I don't like you when you do that," Jimmy said and the grimace that briefly flashed on his face made him look unattractive.

"True friendship means that friends will still like each other despite the way they talk or behave." Hadrian remembered the phrase he had read in an essay on friendship the other day, looking up sharply at his standing friend. His emerald eyes glowed eerily under his raven fringe, and were so huge they made his entire face seem thinner and sharper.

Jimmy sneered. "Does that mean we are not true friends, then?"

Hadrian wanted to say _'Of course, we are friends'_, but lately he began to doubt it a bit.

"You have become so bossy lately," he said instead. "And arrogant. As if you believe you are the best, superior to me, to Kate, to everyone. You don't want to spend much time with me anymore. You began to behave like that ever since you found out that I cannot do anything unusual anymore."

And it was true. Maybe it had really been a demon residing in him. Now Hadrian didn't feel this strange tug in his chest whenever he wanted to retrieve an object or make flowers bloom. Frankly, it worried him because he didn't want to imagine what would happen if the others notice how his powers don't protect him anymore. He was sure he would be targeted.

"I'm not bossy!" Jimmy yelled furiously with a deep blush on his cheeks. "It's just that you are not entertaining anymore. Other boys don't like to spend time with you. They think you are a creep."

"And what do _you_ think? Do you share their opinion?" Hadrian asked softly. His heart clenched in anticipation. He feared of what he might hear. Yes, Jimmy had become quite haughty and overbearing lately, what's with his obsession with Ben, but he still was the only person Hadrian was close to. He couldn't imagine how dull life would be without their games and midnight conversations.

Jimmy looked at Hadrian as if weighing his words. "I think you are," he confirmed finally.

Hadrian felt sharp pain as if his heart had shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, which would never be pulled together again. He watched his frie- _ex-friend now_, he reminded himself, and couldn't believe he had associated with this person for so long.

"I mean," Jimmy continued, too absorbed in his speech to notice Hadrian's heartbroken expression, "Ben said so. And he's cool, and everyone believes him, even caretakers! And- Yeah, anyway, when he told me about it, I didn't want to believe it at first. But then I thought more, and realized he's right."

"You believe him more than me? Your friend?" Hadrian decided he wouldn't burst out crying now, in front of the whole yard. Luckily, they were still speaking quietly, neither wanting the others to hear their spat.

Jimmy looked uncomfortable at the words. "Yeah, you were my friend, but… It was Ben who said it. And guys agree with him." Then his eyes became bright and an excited expression appeared on his face. "You know, he offered me to be part of his group, but only if I stop talking to you. They hate you a lot. Now that I think about it, why couldn't I see it earlier? You're strange. And you're unpopular. And you don't even have your freaky skills anymore."

Jimmy cast the last glance at the fragile boy sitting in front of him and said, "I want to be loved. With you, it's impossible. If someday you become well-liked, call me. But I doubt it will ever happen, you are too strange for that." And he left, leaving Hadrian alone on the grass.

'_I, too, wonder how I couldn't see your real character before,'_ the boy thought dully, staring into space. Oddly enough, after the initial burst of pain, he didn't feel anything. Their friendship had always been fake, so what was the use of crying over something that had never existed in the first place?

XXX

A year later he was yet again sitting under the large oak on the far side of the yard. Throughout years it had become his favourite place, where he could come and think without being disturbed or made to do more chores. The dark shade was both cool and concealed his presence well.

Well, most of the time. Apparently, today was an exception.

"You are going to catch a cold if you don't put a scarf on. It's almost autumn already, if you haven't noticed." The voice was calm and pleasant, completely unsuitable for the girl standing before him.

Milly Spice, the girl, whose leg he had supposedly broken a year and a half ago. She was an outcast just like him, and the boy could sympathize with her. However, the reason for their peers to dislike her were completely different from the reason they disliked him.

She wasn't a beautiful person. She was sturdy, fat and ungraceful, with a heavy jaw and bushy eyebrows. Her personality wasn't all that good either; the girl utterly lacked the kind of friendly and endearing charm plump people usually had. Her sharp and critical mind didn't make other children love her either. Sometimes, even the caretakers were afraid of her disparaging remarks.

Not to mentions that there were rumours flying around that she was in a gang.

Hadrian wondered what drove her to talk to him, seeing that she was much older than himself, which he didn't hesitate to ask right away.

"Is it that strange for a person to be interested in you?" the girl inquired, joining him on the grass, and warped a thick scarf around his delicate neck. He immediately felt himself become warmer.

"You are not afraid of me." Somehow, it came out more like a statement rather than a question.

Milly looked at him and the boy squashed the urge to quiver under her penetrating gaze. "They say you are a devil. I think it's bullshit."

Hadrian didn't know what to think or do. No one had ever said something like that to him before. The words left a warm feeling in his chest, and he wondered if he could make a new friend now, a true one this time.

"You shouldn't swear, it's unsightly," he chastised the girl, deciding to analyze his perplexing emotions later, in the safety of his room. "And you are a girl on top of that, too."

Milly looked unimpressed at the mild rebuke. "So what? Are you one of those guys who believe that a girl should stay at home, look pretty and satiate all her husband's hungers?"

"Of course not!" Hadrian blurted out and blushed, looking down in slight embarrassment. _'I really am no good while dealing with people.'_ He lowered his voice as he said, "It's just what people usually think, isn't it?"

"And you always agree with other people's way of thinking? I'm disappointed. You seemed way different to me." Her voice reeked of disenchantment and the boy felt an unexpected urge to rephrase his words.

"I don't agree with them," Hadrian said, shrugging uncomfortably. "But my opinion doesn't really matter, right?"

Milly stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "I asked you. I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't wanted to hear what you say."

"You are strange, do you know it?" Hadrian asked with creased eyebrows. No one had ever talked to him like that. He couldn't understand this girl at all. "Why have you come here? Others don't like me much."

"What an understatement," Milly muttered and peered at Hadrian. "It's impossible to not notice. I'd say they truly hate you. Sorry for being rude, but-"

"It's all right," Hadrian interrupted. "You shouldn't be sorry for saying the truth, no matter how hurtful it is."

Silence fell on the two, and, strangely, it wasn't uncomfortable. Hadrian could freely enjoy listening to the birds singing and observing some girls playing tag nearby.

Milly decided to break the silence, however comfortable it was. "Aren't you, you know, lonely?"

Hadrian thought about it. Was he lonely? Maybe, a bit. But certainly not enough to start actively seek people's presence. After Jimmy betrayed his trust so completely he didn't know if he wanted to have close relationships with other people if it meant getting hurt.

"Not really," he answered honestly. It seemed like honesty was indeed the best policy with this sharp and strange girl who decided to spend time with him all of a sudden, breaking his quiet solitude. "Just bored. I don't know what to do to pass time. Surely, there is homework to do, but in summer…"

"Don't you know that there is such thing as reading for pleasure?" Milly demanded, eyes wide with bewilderment and something resembling sympathy. Now it was Hadrian's turn to stare at her incredulously.

"And where do I find books for light reading in the orphanage?" he asked sarcastically. The mere idea seemed foolish and impossible. "The only books I own were presented to me by Kate for my birthdays, and they are old children's books. I can hardly read them anymore. People will laugh at me if I go around reading them."

"Well, it's not like you have anything to lose. They already dislike, it will be nothing knew," Milly said wisely, her small blue eyes closed.

"Thanks for reminding me." Hadrian's expression was sour and he turned away, watching the wind play with the leaves on the ground, shuffling them around. He didn't like it when people pointed out the obvious.

The girl shrugged unconcernedly, clearly not ashamed of speaking her mind. In this moment Hadrian could easily see why others seemed to dislike her. Such attitude didn't inspire love and adoration. He wondered why he was still talking to her. "Think nothing of it. That's what friends are for."

The phrase stopped Hadrian's train of thought and he stared at the girl with an indescribable expression. Not even Jimmy openly admitted that they were friends unless it was dragged out of him by Hadrian's pleading puppy eyes or words. _'Then again, haven't we already established that the guy is a traitorous back-stabbing git?_' he thought, furiously berating himself for even remembering the other boy. Their 'friendship' was done and over with. No use in being reminded of it every day.

Milly looked at his expectant face and winced. "What? I would like to get to know you closer. If you don't mind, of course." A small blush adorned her pale grayish skin. She preferred to spend time inside of the building instead of playing outdoors, and thus was able to become the most knowledgeable person in their orphanage despite being only fourteen. This, however, also meant that her ugly skin colour wouldn't do any justice to her already mismatched features.

Hadrian pondered on her words. _'Well, she certainly seems nice enough, even if she is a bit too rude at times. It doesn't mean, though, that I will trust her. Much.'_

"Let's try it,' he finally relented and run a hand through his hair. Absently, he reminded himself to ask Kate for another hair tie or ribbon. His hair had already reached his shoulder blades and was becoming quite uncomfortable to wear as it frequently got into his eyes.

"That's it?" Milly brought a finger to her lips questioningly and raised her eyebrow. She seemed to like to do that a lot. "No questions about 'why' or 'for what reasons'?"

Hadrian shrugged and looked up at the sky above them. It was nearing dinner time and they would have to get back soon. "We are both loners. I think the reason should be obvious. You did want to speak with me that time in the forest, remember? And I saw you wishing to talk to me a few times since then." He paused and then grimaced. "I guess I was too absorbed in Jimmy to pay any attention to it."

Milly smirked. "You're quite observant for your age. I'm happy you have realized that Bart is a real jerk. He's like Ben Jonathan, you know. Really nasty."

Hadrian scowled. "I should have realized sooner that his obsession with every thing Jonathan was unhealthy," he muttered, huffing angrily. His expression brightened a bit as he said, "It's all right now, though. I think you are better than him in any case. What's that phrase Kate used while talking with this strange old man from the factory? Ah, yeah. I'm looking forward to our future association."

Milly smiled at him, amused, "I'm glad I chose you to be friends with."


	3. Chapter 3 Freedom Can Be Taxing, Too

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. See how his life will turn out when he acquires an unusual guardian, crazy friends and a feared ability. Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to finish this chapter. Between the preparation for my finals and an English competition, I didn't have the time to proofread at all. I'll do my best to finish chapter 4 by the end of the week, because next week I won't be able to write at all.**

**But after that, I will only have my finals – especially History – to worry about and the chapters will be out much faster)) **

**Chapter 3.** Freedom Can Be Taxing, Too.

A loud crash resounded in the room and Hadrian winced; yet, he didn't look away from his book. The plants and trees described in it were just too interesting to snap his attention to such insignificant matters. The constant bangs and small explosions had become a norm ever since Milly had been given a Chemistry kit as a reward for her many scholastic achievements.

Hadrian would have had no problems with it if the girl hadn't decided that the best place to exercise her knowledge in this subject was his own room.

When another boom was heard and fragments of some unfortunate vial scattered across the room, Hadrian couldn't hold it in.

"I _really _ask you to be a bit quieter. If the caretakers hear the noise and come here, they will blame _me_ for it. Just like the last time it happened," he said, raising his head to look at her sharply.

Milly, who was sitting on the floor besides his bed, cringed visibly at the remembrance, but then glowered at him with all the force of her mighty glare. Hadrian reflected that her pride would be the end of her one day, as would be her inability to be reminded of her own mistakes and shortcomings.

"It happened just once," she snarled viciously, her hands working quickly to gather the scattered splinters. "And you were no less to blame that time. _You_ were curious about what would happen if I mix-"

"Yeah, yeah. I have heard this a thousand times already."

Hadrian frowned and looked up from his book reluctantly, a look of mild annoyance in his bright green eyes.

"Still, it doesn't mean that your unblemished reputation will be spoilt if you listened to me just once and stopped being such an egoist. What if you set the whole building on fire? Or, worse, set _my room_ on fire with your chemicals? Or-"

"Gods, Hadrian, don't be so fussy!" Milly exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "You know I have to know more about Chemistry to make our dream-"

"_Your_ dream, you mean."

"- come true. We will finally be able to leave this awful place and become rich. If everything goes according to the plan, of course. I remember you asking me how you could help. You know what? You will help me _greatly_ by keeping your mouth shut."

Hadrian chose to ignore her last sentence, playing with the hem of his shirt anxiously instead; his forehead was creased in thought. "I don't think we should really go through with our plans. I mean, _really_, inventing a cool drug and becoming drug dealers? Don't you think it's a bit too much? It may get us arrested. Or killed in some gang skirmishe. I wouldn't like either for me."

Milly looked at him as if he were something filthy, something beneath her notice and as if she wondered if he was even worth talking to.

"Are you afraid?" she asked challengingly, daring him to speak anything against her.

Hadrian shook his head and sighed. They would return to this conversation at least once more, he was sure of it. But this time hadn't come yet and he hoped beyond hope that it would never come at all.

Their relationship had progressed greatly throughout this last year, and Hadrian prided himself in knowing that he was the only person Milly deigned to talk to and share her secrets with. The girl had been pleased to find out he was more mature and cynical than the other children here at the orphanage, and had come to have a soft spot for him.

Many people wanted to use Milly because of her good marks and intelligence. It was rumoured that she was going to try to enter Oxford when the time to choose a university came, and a lot of people actually believed she could do it.

Her ugliness had pushed her to excel in her studies, something no other child at St. Paul's Orphanage had ever attempted to do. Most of them were all right with living their lives in preparation to become either caretakers themselves or factory workers. Hadrian could rarely see a hint of ambition in any of them, only useless dreams of riches and luxury, which they didn't lift a finger to work for.

He, himself, was different. He was wiser and smarter than most children his age, which enabled him to hold Milly's attention for so long. They got along fairly well despite him being a couple of years younger than the girl.

Of course, not everything was stellar, and Milly's attitude clearly left a lot of room for improvement, but…

Hadrian looked at the book he was holding in his hands. The girl used most of the money earned from scholar contests and competitions to buy books, notebooks, albums and other means of expanding their outlook. Some of them were especially bought for Hadrian, and Milly had spent a lot of hard-earned money on them.

Moreover, she had told him about this one library with a kind librarian who liked children, and Hadrian often sneaked out of the orphanage to borrow one book or another. Sometimes, the librarian, a lonely woman in her fifties, served him sweet tea and home-baked cookies.

Milly, of course, approved of such activities. 'I don't want to be friends with a dumbass,' she would often say.

Hadrian believed her. The lack of patience she showed while dealing with less intelligent children served to illustrate that point.

XXX

Cleaning duty. How dreadful.

Hadrian sighed for what seemed like a hundredth time that afternoon. His hands tinged unpleasantly and the feel didn't go away no matter how much he scratched. The water was dripping down from the dirty rag he was gripping as he rested for a bit.

He didn't like doing this sort of housework. Actually, he pretty much hated it. He was all right with ironing clothes, dusting small objects around the orphanage, cooking various kinds of soups and porridges… He even didn't mind doing the dishes – despite the wetness the duty passed by quickly and after just half an hour he could return to doing whatever he wanted.

The main reason for Hadrian's abhorrence lay in days like this one.

"Aww, Paradis, what's that? On cleaning duty, are we? What a lovely surprise!" The sneering face of one Ben Jonathan was anything _but_ lovely for Hadrian.

Of course, Jonathan's little clique gathered behind him. They all stood with sneering faces and arrogant glints in their eyes. The proudest of them stood Jonathan himself and Jimmy Bart at his right hand. The latter had wormed his way into the heart of the orphanage's small bully-group, and was now looking down on anyone not included in his idol's good graces.

Jonathan looked highly upon and encouraged such fanaticism, taking it as true admiration from the younger boy. Hadrian, however, wasn't fooled. He knew that Bart would strive at the chance to shine and be the leader of their gang himself. Hadrian wondered how he couldn't have seen all this foulness before.

Being friends even with Jonathan seemed like a better idea than with Bart right now.

Ben was handsome, he supposed. No wonder that so many were smitten with him. With his fair hair and muscular body, even some of his victims were reluctant to blame the boy, opting to hold responsible everyone but him instead. Hadrian, however, had never been fooled with his charm or appearance. From an early age he had understood that the most beautiful of appearances could hide the ugliest of souls.

"It seems like Spice didn't manage to threaten the caretakers into freeing him from it this time." And here comes the voice of the little traitor. "Useless without her, are we?"

"Your insults are as miserably pathetic as your intelligence, Jonathan," Hadrian said calmly in reply, hiding the slight hurt he sometimes still felt at his 'friend' turning on him, and ignored the sneers and jeers of the small crowd behind the larger boy.

"Looks like it, guys. You missed a spot here, Paradis!" One of the guys – Hadrian neither remembered nor cared about his name – stomped on the floor with dirty shoes. The emerald-eyed boy gritted his teeth, seeing red, but knew he should be used to it by now.

"Don't you ever grow tired of it?" he asked.

"We?" Bart laughed. "Never. It's always so pleasant to see you being thrown off the high horse."

"Yeah. Always hiding behind that ugly hag like a spineless little worm. Don't you have some manly pride?"

"Look who is talking. Since when did you become so daring, Jonathan? I still remember the times when you ran away screaming whenever I so much as glanced at you."

At Hadrian's words the blond's face went red with embarrassment. "I- That- It doesn't matter! Not anymore."

"Yeah." One of the bullies nodded cheerfully. "You can't do that freakish thing you did when we were children."

"You mean my supposed 'curse'?" It always amused Hadrian how they had twisted the strange happenings around him into that idea. They were odd, but surely not connected with something like magic in any way. Right? "Careful, or you'll turn into a frog if you don't back away right now."

"You- You can't!" Jonathan paled drastically. "After you murdered Father-"

"Excuse me! What's _my_ fault in his death?"

"-After you brutally killed him, you curse vanished! You don't affect us now! I can hit you and get away with it. And Kate won't say anything."

"That's right," someone from the group agreed. "She dislikes you as much as we do. I even heard her speaking about you one evening, saying how unnatural you are."

Some of them were cracking their knuckles and it was obvious that the boys were getting tired of just talking. They wanted to take some action as well.

Thoughts inside of Hadrian's head were spiraling and he was frantically trying to find a way out without fighting. He had never been a fighter, not really. His small stature prevented him from being in any way good at trading punches and blows with other guys. Their numbers and quite strong frames didn't make him believe in his powers either.

All his depressive predictions came to a halt when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye. He wanted to beam at that. Here comes his savior in shining armour!

He didn't let his joy and smugness show, however, when he looked directly in Jonathan's eye and said, "Well then, hit me. Try to."

The older boy looked put out and slightly suspicious for a moment, before his confused expression gave place to a blooming arrogant smirk.

"Giving up, are you? Not surprising, considering how weak you are. A real girl. It's a shame you're a boy. You'd have been good for a brothel with your face."

"Is that all? You eloquence expired?" It was a funny word Hadrian had seen in a book. Why not use it? "I'd think you to be more daring, what's with the way you talk of yourself as of some almighty God. It seems I was wrong."

Jonathan flushed an angry red and raised his tightly clenched fist to strike the blank-faced boy in front of him. He wanted to erase this infuriating little person in front of him, to pound his face with his fists until it bled, to stomp on his fallen body and hammer it down, down, down, to the ground itself… That's how deep his hatred, blended with fear, was.

_Thump._

Jonathan's smirk dimmed when he realized that the flesh his fist had hit wasn't the soft planes of Hadrian's face but hard outstretched palm of a certain much bigger person.

A person who seemed downright furious with him right now, directing all the overwhelming anger towards him.

"Jo-na-than." The syllables were like sharp stabs of the knife Milly was rumoured to carry around, painfully resounding in his ears. "What did I say about bullying my _brother_?"

Oh, right. The gang. The rumours about Milly being the leader of one weren't a secret to any child residing in this particular orphanage. It made people wary around her; being notoriously unpredictable even before, her character had only worsened after some frequent communication with local delinquents.

Only Hadrian was able to somehow pacify and ground her, what's with him being very smart and silent most of the time. She had made him her right-hand man - even though he hadn't even seen the members of the gang - ensuring everyone knew it and Hadrian would be treated like royalty.

Well, as much of royalty as possible in a run-down orphanage in a forgotten corner of London's outskirts.

And she became immensely angry when someone had the gall to go against her 'orders', as Jonathan was doing right now.

"Umm… We were just talking, right, guys? Paradis?" The boy looked pleadingly at the stoic Hadrian and then turned to his little clique, all of them nodding vigorously. They knew they wouldn't be spared either if the large girl decided to punish them.

There were _legends_ about that one time she completely crushed one guy's wrist bone when he –in his drunken state, of course- told her how fat she was.

The poor bastard had been fleeing from her ever since.

"Please, Jonathan, at least don't _act_ as pathetic as you probably feel all the time," Hadrian snapped and a dark scowl marred his flawless face.

'_Does he really, actually think that I'm going to back them up and lie to Milly?'_ he thought, staring disbelievingly at the group from behind his protector _'Idiot.'_

"Your little hangers-on should know better, too," he continued. "I think we should teach you a lesson in attitude. I really hope you won't forget it as fast as you forgot the last one."

Milly's predatory smile became even wider at those words. She wouldn't have done it if Hadrian had said her to stop. While she didn't obey him, she listened to his wishes, which were admittedly rather mild compared to her own most of the time.

A lot of times she offered her so-called brother to call some of her subordinates to hurt this group, to make them pay for everything they had done to him, especially this Bart boy, who had dared to throw Hadrian away. Not that she minded, of course – they wouldn't have been able to develop this kind of relationship if it hadn't happened - but the fact itself!

Oh, she couldn't describe how much she wanted to kill them, not making her wishes a secret at all. And she would have done it, too, if not for-

"Stop it, Milly. You are hurting him."

Hadrian's quiet voice cut through the clouds of reverie in her mind and she blinked, realizing only now that her hand was gripping Jonathan's arm, making him wail and howl with pain, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. She felt her most precious person's arms brace her and his warm breath caress her neck – this was the farthest he could reach standing on his tiptoes.

"We should probably go," he whispered anxiously. "Tell this bunch to clean up the mess they have made, and let's get going. This will be their punishment. I know how Ji- Bart in particular is allergic to cleaning solutions."

"But-"

"Let's go," he repeated, putting more force behind it this time, pushing her to start walking with him and leaving the relieved boys behind. Milly nodded absently, seemingly calming down.

Ordering the group to finish the cleaning for Hadrian, she caught up with him and touched his shoulder lightly, making him turn around. As a reply to the silent question, his lips curled into the tiniest of smiles and he shook his head fondly.

"You are my best friend, Milly." Was all he said and no further words had to be exchanged between them.

Milly grinned widely.

Even if Hadrian didn't approve of some of her traits of her character, he never condemned her for them either. And for that fact alone she was ready to remain by his side.

XXX

Time passed by quickly and Hadrian didn't seem to notice as summer came around. He was going to be ten in less than a month and wondered what Milly would choose to buy him. The girl had always been surprisingly original and managed to surprise him with her choice of presents.

Admittedly, the orphanage gave children presents, too, but mostly it was something like a new coat or a pair of trousers – something which would be useful and needed to be bought anyway, just maybe at a different time.

Hadrian had never counted on these presents, though – he was Mrs. Rickety's least favourite ward, hence the reason she didn't bother much with buying him something truly comfortable or finely made to wear.

This time, however, other than his birthday, the small boy had another thing to look forward to.

A trip.

The children at St. Paul's orphanage had never been taken somewhere before. Of course, sometimes they went on excursions to one museum in London or another, but… It just wasn't the same as travelling to some other part of the country.

All the hustle and bustle and the generally loud noises of people preparing for the trip were getting on Hadrian's nerves, but could he really fault those children? He was just as excited as them to see a change of scene, a place said to be uncommonly beautiful, with green meadows and a forest.

'_And a lake. Or was it a river? Ah, but who cares. Water is water. Wonder if Milly will teach me how to swim?'_

At the same time, he was quite curious regarding the reason as to why the government decided to set up a fund for their particular orphanage while there were plenty of others in the district. It was due to some local programme that they were given this opportunity.

Apparently, some filthy rich and, most probably, utterly bored man decided to donate half of his vast fortune to charity.

'To give poor children a chance to experience what a normal holiday means,' as he had said, garnering approving and admiring looks and whispers from the locals, especially the female caretakers, who wouldn't pass up the chance to sunbathe and have a good time for free.

The orphans were to stay at his grand mansion, situated near a thick forest and a small village with a funny name. Would-on-the-Mood. Or was it Mold-on the-Wood? Something strange like that, anyway.

Who cared about how a place was named as long as they got to swim?

'_I really need to improve my memory though,'_ Hadrian thought while packing his clothes. _'Maybe this time it doesn't matter, but what if someday I will forget something important? Something relevant? God, I hope that at least Milly would be there to remind me.'_

Shaking his head, Hadrian tried to throw all those thoughts out of his mind and opted to focus on packing instead. Thankfully, Milly had bought him a new bag, into which he could squeeze all his belongings – also presented to him by her, obviously.

"I have a long way to go," he muttered miserably, looking at his scattered around the room possessions. The worst thing was, Milly wouldn't even help him this time. The girl had said something vague about testing new throwing knives and traitors to the gang, but the boy didn't care enough to ask for details.

She had always been involved in odd things.

The boy sighed and decided to finally get up from the bed he had been sitting on and get moving. The pile wouldn't wait. Or, at least, the caretakers wouldn't.

What a way to spend his evening.

XXX

"I suck at this." Hadrian hunched his shoulders in defeat. "I'll never manage to do it."

"You are not even trying."

"I do! I just don't have the talent, it seems."

"Who the hell needs a talent for _swimming_? If you keep this up, I swear I will think of you the same way I think about those dunderheads who overflow this wretched place."

"Heavens, no!" Hadrian's horrified expression made Milly bark in laughter. "I think I would commit a suicide if I were ever like Jonathan. Or worse. Bart."

"Well, then, do something about it. Your whining starts to get annoying."

Hadrian sighed and looked gloomily at the brilliant blue lake spread in front of him. They were both standing in the water, close to the coastline. The water reached the boy's hips, and he was afraid to go further. He had seen a couple of horror movies about the drowned and it was not a pretty sight.

Almost all places with water had a corpse floating peacefully in them, too. What if there was one swimming in the lake right now? At least, according to the detective stories Milly had made him read once and now regretted her choice.

True, his strange powers hadn't appeared for a long time, but what if they chose to reappear right at that moment? And knowing how they affected all things dead, imagining bluishly gray withered skin and bulging eyes somewhere near him…

'_I think I'll never do it,'_ he thought glumly, feeling his previously good mood dropping to the point of non-existence.

XXX

"Are you sure he won't wake up?"

"If you finally shut up, Bart, I _know_ he won't."

"We could get into trouble if we're caught. Kate will-"

"She will do nothing. And I'll make big puppy eyes and she won't tell even Mrs. Rickety about it."

"If you say so…"

"Coward."

When the two boys neared the bed Hadrian was lying on, they immediately stopped talking in fear of being discovered. The night was dark and it was raining outside, the sound of the droplets of rain falling against the windowsill doing nothing but increasing their anxiety.

For a few moments they stared at the tiny black-haired boy and watched his chest heave. It was Jimmy who decided to break the silence.

"Are we really… You know, going to do it?"

"What? Are you scared of what itty bitty Paradis will do to you? All those rumours about him being cursed… They're false, you know. I bet he was the one to make them up in the first place. To look cool, you know."

"I wouldn't bet on it. I- When we were still associating… He could really make weird things happen sometimes. Like when-"

Jonathan sneered and was about to respond snidely when Hadrian shifted in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath. The boys standing at his bedside abruptly stopped short, ceasing their conversation.

"We have to be quick or he'll wake up. Now, pull it out!"

Hesitantly, Bart lifted the large sack he had been holding and moved it closer to Hadrian's bed. Putting on a pair of dirty gloves, he plunged his hand into it, grimacing all the while. After fumbling for a few minutes under the irritated stare of his accomplice he grinned and pulled out the object he had been holding.

With a swift movement Bart threw it on Hadrian's pillow, immediately bouncing away and wiping his hand off his ragged pants in a disgusted fashion.

"Gross!"

The noise woke Hadrian up, who, at first, blinked sleepily, trying to readjust his eyesight to the dark shadows filling the room. His awareness returned rapidly, however, when he saw two yet unknown figures looming over him in the darkness. He grabbed his blanket and pressed it closer to his chest, wild locks flapping with the motion.

"What are you two doing here?" he snarled, mind racing with thoughts about what they could have done to him in his defenceless and vulnerable state.

'_Will Milly hear me from here if I scream? Her room is quite far…'_

"Look at your pillow, Paradis," Jonathan said in response with a smug smirk on his face. He had wanted to do that subtly, as a wake-up surprise for Hadrian, but if that incompetent little wanker Bart had been busted…

Hadrian did exactly that and couldn't keep himself from shrieking loudly.

The pillow was fluffy and the pillowcase itself almost blindingly white. Nothing out of ordinary. Except for the blue and black coils of a snake lying on it. Hadrian sprung on his feet, wishing desperately to get away from there, and scooted to a fancy wardrobe, where a knife Milly had given him was.

On hearing barks and howls of laughter from his bullies, though, he stopped short. The snake hadn't moved yet.

'_Is it… Trying to gather some forces before springing at me? Or is it just waiting? Wait… It's not moving at all!'_

Taking a closer look at the unmoving slimy form, he came to a realization that the snake was apparently dead. Which also explained how Jonathan and Bart could take it here without running away screaming like two overgrown pansies.

Just then, a feeling of utter unfairness and deep offense devoured every cell in his body, making his emerald eyes grow even brighter with anger. He had been putting up with this for so long. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why go so far as to put a dead snake into his bed? It could have been alive and he could have been killed!

"What did I ever do to you?" he murmured, voice low and throaty. "I haven't done anything to deserve such hatred. So why?"

"Your existence in itself is offensive." Jonathan scowled and Hadrian could feel jealousy coming off from him in waves. "If you weren't this way… If only you weren't so odd, I know that everyone would have loved spending time with you. Pretty, smart, quiet…"

"And teachers at school like you, too," Bart cut in, looking displeased. "If we didn't put you in your rightful place, you would have been a show off and too good. We have to show you what you're, your position. Lower than dirt."

Hadrian couldn't believe what he was hearing. All right, he could understand it if someone hated him because of the rumours surrounding his person, some of which, he had to admit, were as grimy as they were far from truth. But tormenting him when Milly wasn't around, making his life hellish and calling up the others, both children and the caretakers, to detest him as well? All of that for something as petty as jealousy?

It made him feel angrier than anything could.

"I hate you," Hadrian muttered hoarsely, tilting his head downwards so that the fringe hid his slightly deranged eyes. He could feel something in the air around him shift and sing, and his chest constricted with a feeling he couldn't quite describe – as if something long dormant decided to make an appearance again, to resurface through a kind of a thick barrier.

The boys standing in front of him didn't seem to notice this alteration at all, continuing where they had left, reciting all the times they had felt him to be too good or too favoured by someone, anyone. Even if a horde of raging elephants came through the door, they wouldn't have moved a muscle – so lost they were in their combined speech, which made Hadrian fleetingly wonder if they had practiced it together.

"…and Milly likes you when she doesn't like me…"

"…you have the protection of her gang… how lucky… you don't deserve it…"

The snippets of their rant in Hadrian's ears were dimmed by his concentration on this weird thing happening around him. He tried hard to somehow destroy that blasted barrier inside of him – his mind or body or maybe something else entirely, he didn't know – which was an uncomfortable obstacle in his system, like when you can't breathe with your nostrils and mouth closed.

It felt suffocating and overwhelming, and he pushed and pushed and pushed, putting all his mind forces and defenses to utterly obliterate the wall, and he was on the verge of succeeding-

"… you're nothing more than a murderer, to kill Father Andrew. Jimmy told me all about it. He has never been your friend, you know. Even when you thought he was, he secretly reported all the strange happenings around you to me."

This knowledge of betrayal became the last straw needed for the barrier to break. Hadrian's whole world lit up with a thousand of colours, most of them various shades of black. He had never been able to even imagine how much undertones could one colour hold, and he couldn't explain how black could be bright, but it was, and it made sense to him, and-

"What's this?" Jonathan looked up when the chandelier over his head blew up and the light bulbs broke into a cascade of sharp fragments. He covered his head with his hands and flew to the door, tugging at the doorknob, only to find the exit locked. "What's going on? Hadrian?"

Jonathan moved his fearful gaze to his fellow orphan, and, despite the severity of the moment, his breath got caught in his throat. With an odd dreamy half-smile and long disorderly hair around him like a halo, Hadrian looked like a fallen angel, a Lucifer in his youth, only without wings.

The spell dissipated quickly when Jonathan felt repulsive scent flowing into his nose. He shifted his gaze to his side kick and his eyes immediately caught a murky spot on the boy's trousers. He scrunched his nose in disgust, but couldn't blame him. Had Jonathan himself had less dignity, he would let go of his bladder, too.

Meanwhile, Bart kneeled on the floor, his head touching the wooden surface, and muttered something barely audible. Listening in, Jonathan could tell that it was a prayer of some kind, probably to ward off demons. Glancing at the midnight-haired boy, he thought in resignation that it would be kind of useless in this situation.

Hadrian stared at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes with impassive face, not having any particular desire to return from the world of this sheer happiness and bright colours and freedom to the world of orphanage and hardships. Yet he squashed the urge to stay in his trance forever, and opted to focus on the two boys in front of him.

Two boys who had been trying their hardest to hurt him.

"I'm not going to let you out," Hadrian proclaimed, his resolve hardening. He didn't like actively hurting others but they had been begging him for it. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet… But I think you deserve something bad to happen to you."

Jonathan paled but stood his ground, not going down on his knees pitifully like his 'friend'. For that fact alone Hadrian could feel a tinge of respect for the older bully. Not that it would save him, of course.

The boy looked around the room to find some inspiration. A knife? No, that'd be too… ordinary. Usual. He could call Milly for that – she had always offered. He didn't know when his powers would vanish again, after all, and wanted to milk this situation for all it was worth.

His gaze fell on the creature resting serenely on his pillowcase, and an idea bloomed in his head. What if he could..?

Hadrian walked up to the bed, careful not to step on the shards – he didn't want to get some kind of infection and end up doing something stupid like dying. He didn't have a reason or a specific goal to his life, but dying sounded like something completely unappealing to him.

He pulled a face at touching a snake but did it anyway, albeit reluctantly. His body shivered at the feel of cold scales and he hesitated before wrapping his hand completely around the animal, just below its head. He tried to summon up the feeling he had gotten once, when that person came to the orphanage and he had raised a swarm of insects.

Hadrian tried to copy the feeling, and the strange dark brightness in his chest increased and became almost unbearably blinding as he summoned up this misty substance. Then he began to transfer it into the slim body before him, and felt it diminish more and more until nothing but a flickering twinkle of it was left, and that was the moment he lifted his hands from the snake, feeling strangely exhausted, to the point where he had to sit down to not be crushed or knocked down by the oncoming headache.

He didn't know what he had done, but he knew it was a right thing – his instincts were clearly telling him so. And if there was one thing Milly had driven to his head, it was to trust instincts more than people – even if that person was himself.

The snake twitched, then opened its eyes, then began to uncoil slowly, taking in its surroundings. All the while horrified gazes followed its calm and sleepy movements.

To Hadrian, the idea of resurrecting (?) a snake didn't seem so brilliant anymore when he realized he was sitting too closely to it and was too drained to get up, not to mention jerk away. With a hopeless expression he observed as the animal lifted its blue and black head to meet his eyes.

Just when he was about to forego all his pride and those silly ideas of revenge and just _flee_ from there, it spoke.

"_Blood. I can smell it. So much of it,"_ the strange talking snake sniffed. _"You taste so good. And smell, too. Can I eat you? Please?"_

Hadrian sat stiffly, still speechless at the fact that a snake could talk in English. His mind was locked on that fact and refused to let it go, thus making the boy unable to react at all.

Snake, as it seemed, took his silence as a yes and was getting ready to lash out at him when, suddenly, it stopped its fangs inches away from his delicate skin. As if puzzled, it tilted its head in an almost human gesture.

"_Wait. You are like those things… The people who took me away from home smelled this way, too. If I spare you, will you return me to mother?"_

"_Um…"_ Hadrian began tentatively; hope now shining in his emerald orbs. _"I'm sorry to disappoint you… But I actually have no idea what you're talking about. I don't want you to eat me, though. Maybe, you could explain in more detail where I should take you and all…"_

He stopped short when the reptile reared up its head in what seemed like a surprise. Hadrian couldn't honestly comprehend why. Did he say something wrong?

"_You speak!"_ it exclaimed.

"_Of course," _Hadrian replied, feeling offended. His opinion of the snake's intellect was dropping with every passing minute.

"_Why didn't you speak up sooner? And to think that I could kill a speaker! Other snakes would have never forgiven me!"_ It shook its head frantically, as if envisioning what exactly they would have done in punishment.

"_Well, sorry for being surprised at seeing a talking snake!" _Hadrian snapped, affronted at the reptile's behavior. _"Why are you able to talk in English anyway?"_

The snake stared at him as if he was being an idiot. _"It's not me, human-child. Didn't you notice? _You_ are the one speaking my language. I thought you tingling people would certainly know."_

Hadrian frowned, realizing that, indeed, his speech now included prolonged 's's and sounded more like hissing than natural human tongue. His mind, however, was locked on the other word.

"_Tingling people?"_ he mouthed.

The snake whipped its tail dismissively. _"Your strange powers make my scales tingle. It's quite pleasant, I should say. That's why I never bite people like you. Unless they annoy me, of course."_

Hadrian was about to say something when a loud wail prevented words from passing his lips. He felt like hitting his head. He had completely forgotten about Bart and Jonathan!

His eyes peering out of his fringe, he glanced at the violently trembling boys, thinking about what he could do now. The snake, while not overly intelligent, seemed quite nice and agreeable. Surely, he could ask it to scare those two? Not to kill them – the matron would probably freak out and blame him for it – but… frighten them a bit.

"_Umm… Did you know you were dead? And, well, it was me who returned you back to life. Sort of. Doesn't that merit a reward of some kind? I mean- Of course, you can go and do whatever you like, but will you do just a small favour?"_

If snakes could grimace, this one would. _"I don't want to be dead once more. It was dark and there was nothing to eat. Can you imagine that? No crunchy bones, no tender meat, no skin… If you, human-child, were the one to pull me out of it… What do you want me to do?"_

"_Can you… I don't know, scare them? Are you poisonous?"_

"_Depends. My venom could kill a human within seconds. Aren't I a great snake?"_ The reptile looked smug at that. Hadrian just coughed awkwardly, unsure as to how to reply to that. _"But if you want, I could inject only a smallest amount of venom and it would just make him unconscious."_

Bart, who was still kneeling on the floor, squeaked and his mutterings grew louder, as if he heard what they were saying. He raised his eyes, the reptile immediately in its field of vision, and screamed in horror as he saw it nearing him.

"_Wait!"_ Hadrian's voice cut through the tense silence of the room. "_He's too pathetic to bite, spare your venom. I don't think he will ever bother me anymore. Can you bite the other one?" _he addressed to the yet unnamed snake.

'_While Jonathan is slightly better than that lump on the floor, it doesn't mean that I will forgive all he has done to me in a few minutes.'_

Without bothering to reply, the reptile lunged at the fair-headed boy, biting him in the arm. It remembered to carefully avoid brushing vital vein in his wrist. The bite itself didn't last long – less than a second, a swift movement, blurring in Hadrian's eyesight.

Jonathan gasped in fear and pain and clutched his wounded arm, on which two tiny punctures had appeared. His face scrunched up in pain, but, again, it didn't last long – a moment later his body relaxed and the carpet underneath his feet welcomed him in its fluffy embrace.

Bart was unconscious by that moment, and Hadrian ran up to the fallen body of the orphanage's local favourite. He checked the pulse and felt relieved when he realized that Jonathan's heart was still beating. The raven-haired boy looked up, quirking his lips in a tiny smile, and was about to express his undying gratitude to the snake, when the door behind him creaked open.

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Rickety, standing in her pink nightgown, demanded. "We've heard the screams- Oh, Gods!"

The caretakers, headed by a worried Kate, arrived at the sound of her shout and gathered around the two lying bodies. Every one of them added their horrified moans and shrieks and pained whimpers to the cacophony of sounds reigning in the room.

The noise made Hadrian's ears hurt and he was glad he had had the time to quickly retreat to the farthest corner of the room. He had taken the reptile with him, knowing that it would be best if they didn't see her – his punishment could get much worse if they were to find out he had a hand in their favourites' current state of unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, the reptile wasn't as farsighted.

Curious, it had slithered away from the hiding place behind him. And Kate chose exactly that moment to look in Hadrian's direction.

The ear-splitting screech that followed could make his eardrums explode from the pressure – that's how high and how ringing it was. "A snake! Look, here, at the villa!"

"Someone, do something!"

"Why do you people just stand there? Kill it!"

"Will stepping on it work?"

"You dumbass, it will kill you before you get near it! How do you think stepping will work?"

"Oh, this wretched man," Mrs. Rickety was mumbling to herself while watching the snake tearfully. "I knew it was wrong of me to trust charity from a complete stranger. The nerve of him! Make poor children be bitten by a poisonous snake! Where will I get rid of corpses?"

The fact that the boys seemed perfectly fine if out cold, waiting for someone to tend to them, seemed to escape her notice.

In the commotion Kate's gaze fell on Hadrian and he knew it wouldn't end well for him.

"You!" she snarled, pointing an accusing finger at the discomfited boy. "I know it's somehow your fault! It always is!"

Hadrian opened his mouth to retort, to say how she was wrong and lie that he had slept until waking up and finding the unconscious bodies when the culprit for all the commotion slithered forward to where he was standing now.

That… damned… _creature_.

His petite form was still and unmoving, and he didn't stir even when he felt its cool scales gliding by his ankles, making him shiver despite the warm air. The condemning glares directed at him by all the occupants of the room didn't make him feel better at all.

"I… This…" He tried in vain to speak up, to think of anything, any lie which could help him get out of the situation, but he soon realized, with dread devouring him, that his usual eloquence had evaporated and all words had left him.

In the end, he just made an uncertain wave with his hand, at a loss of what to say. The motion seemed to break the ringing silence in the room and the noise returned.

Except that this time they were talking about him and his punishment.

Young and old caretakers, along with the orphanage's old janitor and Mrs. Rickety, quarreled about how to discipline him. Even those who had been pretty much indifferent to him before, now tried to outcry each other about the choice of punishment, leaving Hadrian standing by his lonesome by the heavily-curtained window.

He didn't complain, though. He stood there alternating between glaring daggers at the smug reptile at his feet and observing the proceedings.

Eventually, Mrs. Rickety offered the others to retreat to her office and discuss the matters over a glass of wine. Her offer was met with general approval and, eventually, they left, leaving Hadrian and the snake with a promise of pain if he moved anywhere.

How foolish. It's not like the boy had anywhere to go even if he wanted to.

XXX

"_What is your name, anyway?" _Hadrian asked when he grew bored with the continuous silence. He wasn't really interested in the snake's reply – he just needed something to occupy himself with while waiting for his verdict to be declared.

He had tried to go to Milly but found out that the caretakers had locked the door, thus preventing his escape. He had no doubt that the old hag Kate was the one to do it – the woman had always harboured some kind of peculiar hatred towards him.

"_Kamaria." _The familiar hissing voice, which by now Hadrian was sure belonged to a female, shook him out of his thoughts. _"You?"_

"_You can call me Hadrian."_ After a prolonged silence Hadrian continued, seemingly disinterested. _"Back then… You mentioned 'tingling people'. And that they feel the same way as I. What did you mean by that?"_

"_You don't know?"_ Kamaria asked, honestly surprised. Hadrian scowled, not liking being ignorant about something so important. _"Then again, not everyone is as educated as me – be it snake or human."_

Seeing his scowl deepening, she continued hastily. _"You humans call them 'wizards', I think. Or something like that. Anyways, people who can cause this tingling feeling – magic."_

"_But magic doesn't exist!"_

"_Do you really think so? How did you resurrect me, then? I'm sure I was dead, but then I woke up and saw you. If this isn't magic, then I don't know what is."_

It made Hadrian remember all the times he had done something strange. True, he had thought about magic as well at first, but after he mentioned it to Mrs. Rickety once and she preached about its non-existence, he was completely dissuaded from the idea.

"_All right, then,"_ he said. _"You said there are others. Where can I find them? Is it possible at all?"_

If snakes could shrug, Kamaria would.

"_Who knows. I have never been interested in human culture. I know I can feel magic, but that's nearly all. If you want, though, I can lead you to the places where its concentration is high."_

"_We'll see about that," _Hadrian muttered and heard the sound of the key opening the door. He looked at it, expecting the caretakers to come forth with their decision.

To his surprise, the door revealed his best and only friend, who looked really angry.

"You idiot!" she growled, loudly closing the door behind her. "Why did you kill them? I have specifically instructed you to wait until we're out of here!"

"But I didn't-" Hadrian didn't finish when he saw the guilty expression on Kamaria's face.

"_I think my venom was still too strong for a child so young,"_ she hissed apologetically. Hadrian wanted to murder her after those words. His expression clearly belied his inner rage, at least judging by the way the snake slithered under the bed as far away from him as possible.

"Oh? Then, how come I have seen Jonathan's corpse downstairs?" Milly sneered.

Hadrian paled drastically. He hadn't wanted it. He didn't want to become… a murderer. A killer. Of course, he could have been a cause of someone's death but an indirect one. Now, though, when he had purposely ordered a snake to hurt a person… his conscience was nagging at the back of his mind.

"Why are you so silent?" Milly's voice was shrill and, to Hadrian's shock, the girl seemed almost hysterical, with splotches of red blush across her cheeks and tears ready to fall from her eyes. The boy was so used to seeing her strong and proud that in this moment of her weakness he stood like a fool, at a loss about what to do.

"I don't know what to say," Hadrian admitted quietly. He ducked his head to avoid looking at his friend in fear of her seeing his overwhelming confusion and uncertainty. "I- I didn't want him to die, not really. What is Mrs. Rickety going to do?"

Milly turned away from him and her voice sounded hollow as she spoke. "They're going to lock you away in a prison. Jonathan was their favourite, you've picked the wrong target." Abruptly, she whirled around and fire was blazing in her eyes. "I won't allow it! I know a way, a way to save you."

With confident strides she reached Hadrian and grabbed him by his shoulders. "You have enough time to escape. I have picked the lock and stolen some money from Mrs. Rickety's room when she was busy with the police. When you run away from here, you should go to this village – Mould-on-the-Wold. Remember that hiding place near the fountain? Wait for me there. I will get you and we'll decide what to do later."

The clock on the wall stroke eleven and Milly let go of him reluctantly.

"I understand," Hadrian said quietly, rubbing the girl's arm reassuringly. A small beautiful smile played on his face. "Thank you. Not just for this but for all that you have done to me."

"Idiot." Milly snorted while trying to wipe away the tears in the corners of her eyes as inconspicuously as possible. "It's not a farewell. Don't think that you'll get rid of me so easily."

Hadrian grinned. "Of course not. Till I see you again."

And off he went.

XXX

Why did he get lost again?

Oh, yes, it was because of this annoying reptile on his shoulder which seemed like a source of all the trouble for him lately.

He clearly remembered Milly's instructions about going to Mould-on-the-Wold, and had been aiming to carry them out initially. But when he - and the infuriating snake that had somehow tagged along – was passing by the forest on his way to the village, Kamaria perked up and said that she could sense very strong magical lines coming from the depths of the wood.

Hadrian had hesitated then and, after some prompting from his new… pet? turned around to see where those vibes were coming off from. Maybe he could find something of a community there. People, who would help and guide him, and perhaps even teach him a few tricks regarding the use of his powers.

Milly wouldn't have been able to drop by the village until very late anyway, and Hadrian had planned to do a little trip and proceed with their plans.

Except that now it had all gone awry.

He had been walking in the forest for a few hours already and could see the sky become darker. He was getting hungry, too, and the rumbling of his stomach was like an annoying melody, unpleasant to listen to.

He watched Kamaria pounce on a defenseless rabbit and swallow him whole.

'_Lucky her,'_ he thought enviously.

"_It's here!"_ she suddenly exclaimed, diverting from the satisfying task of digesting poor fluffy animal.

"_That's what you told me half an hour ago,"_ Hadrian snapped. His feet hurt, too. And he wanted to take a shower. Badly. He knew he smelled like a horde of athletes after working out.

"_I know, I know, but this time I'm sure!"_

Hadrian sighed, not really believing her. He had come to understand that the snake would say anything only so that she could seem wise and strong and great and all that jazz. Due to Kamaria he had lost count of how many adjectives could describe the virtues of a reptile.

He blinked when he realized that this place looked quite different from the ones they had been in for the past hours.

They had arrived at the graveyard.

Oh, dear.


	4. Chapter  4 The Experiment

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. See how his life will turn out when he acquires an unusual guardian, crazy friends and a feared ability. Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your reviews! It always warms my heart to read them. In this chapter I will be introducing a new character, so a half of it will be a huge flashback, which I tried to shorten as much as possible. There won't be many of them in my story, so I ask you to bear with me. :)**

**To answer some of your questions, yes, Milly will play a great role as Harry's friend throughout the story. I'm looking forward to writing them working together. –cackles evilly- I have all those **_**wonderful**_** ideas about how to mesh magic and drugs.**

**And Marie really did die. She was deathly ill and wasn't really important in the story, other than the fact that she gave Hadrian his name and was the one to find him.**

**This chapter is also proofread in haste because I have to go away for a week and I don't even have my bags packed yet! So, if you notice any mistakes, don't worry, I'll try to fix them when I return. I just really wanted to update before departing:)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 4. The Experiment.**

When Hadrian had first heard about a graveyard nearby, he had envisioned grim crosses and statues of angels looming threateningly over the last last refuge of men and women. He envisioned the breathtaking feeling of darkness dancing in the air and the atmosphere of dreariness combined with fear, both humbling and exciting.

Now, looking at the small area with simple wooden crosses and ordinary grey stones instead of imposing sculptures, Hadrian felt cheated.

Kamaria stuck out her tongue into the air, as if feeling it. Her eyes flashed a bright brilliant blue when she sensed something peculiar.

"_It's here," _she hissed, slithering down her master's body to the carpet of dry leaves. She slid forward with determination, turning her head to the sides in search of the power calling to her. In her excitement she didn't notice what was happening around, ignoring Hadrian's cautious footsteps behind her and his wary calls.

The boy didn't yet know what they would find or what he even expected to happen to him at the graveyard – he had never been to any funerals before, and the orphanage was situated quite far from any cemetery.

Strangely enough, something was compelling him to move forward, to the place Kamaria was leading. It was an inexplicable urge, a sudden whim.

Now, Hadrian usually wasn't the one to indulge in adventures and caprices – the years of experiencing the aftermath of those impulses had taught him well – but he had learned to trust his instincts, however unreasonable they seemed.

He became concerned, though, when they had neared the edge of the fence, yet the snake didn't stop. Eventually, Hadrian was led to a withered tree, under which two lone tombstones stood, apart from the other graves.

"_Found it!"_ the snake exclaimed gleefully, her forked tongue tasting the air again. She looked at her companion, waiting for grateful speeches or at least sounds of approval of some kind. Hadrian was too busy reading the names to notice her disapproving stare when none followed.

"_What strange names,"_ he muttered out loud, hand tapping his chin pensively. _"This girl here, Ariana Dumbledore… It seems like she died at just fourteen. Must have been dreadful for her parents to lose her. And Kendra… Her mother, maybe?"_

Kamaria tilted her head and her scales flashed in the moonlight. _"Honestly, I don't care. Are you going to reward me now? Carrying me in your hands seems like a good idea. I'm so awfully _tired,_"_ she complained in a hissy whine.

" _I'm sure that walking a couple of feet wasn't such a chore,"_ Hadrian snapped. He had been carrying her for a few hours and this nosy creature had the gall to actually complain! _"Why should I reward you anyway? You have done nothing but aggravate me!"_

Kamaria hissed, offended_. "We _slither,_ not walk. And I _have_ located those magical humans you wanted to find so badly. It's not my fault they are already dead."_

Hadrian sighed and sat upon one of the low tombstones. He was tired and there were no benches and, well, it's not like the corpses underneath could complain, right?

"_Can't you do the same thing you did to me?"_ Kamaria asked suddenly. _"You know, raise one of them from the dead. Probably the girl is better. I don't want to associate myself with some old aunty. They scream too much for me to like them. Young ones, at least, sometimes find my scales fascinating. Just like they should."_

Hadrian looked at her contemplatively but in the end only shook his head. _"I'm exhausted. Not to mention that I really don't know how in the world I've managed to do it to you."_

"_You mean to tell me… That you experimented on me?"_ Kamaria looked so angry with her glowering light blue eyes that for a second the boy thought she might strike him, and leaned away a bit. _"What if you damaged my lovely scales?"_

"_It's not like you would have cared even if something had gone wrong. I mean, you were a corpse, for God's sake!"_

"_God?"_ Kamaria looked mildly interested, her previous anger forgotten. _"Is it something you can eat?"_

"_Umm… Not really. God is… some kind of higher power… oh, how do you explain it to a _snake_?"_

"_Hey! I might not have limbs like you, but I'm far from unintelligent."_ She looked incredibly smug at that, not wavering even under Hadrian's skeptical gaze. _"In fact, you are lucky to have got such a bright snake like me."_

"_Are you implying that I can call you my pet now?" _

Kamaria reared up in offense, hissing affrontedly. _"Say no such foolish things, human child. I'm too great to have masters."_

"_You would be dead now if not for me. This way you certainly wouldn't have had any masters,"_ Hadrian pointed out. _"Now that I think about it… I have been feeling this strange thread connecting me to you ever since that time. What would happen if I snap it, how do you think?"_ Hadrian tapped his chin in contemplation. _"Oh, yeah, probably no more 'tender meat' for you, as you put it back then." _

It was true that ever since resurrecting the snake, no matter how useless she was, he had been feeling quite tired, and not just because of his hunger and long hours of pointless walking in the forest. Something was sucking energy from him, and Hadrian was determined to make it stop, especially if he was going to spend unidentifiable amount of time _here _of all places.

The boy closed his eyes and concentrated. Meditation had always been the thing which calmed him the most. No matter the circumstances. He had used it to relax long before Milly came along and introduced him to the joys of reading good books and talking to a friend.

Since he was little, he could go to a place in his mind filled with mist and where time passed slowly. If he absolutely had to call some place 'home', he would choose this one.

So, Hadrian wasn't surprised to feel his heartbeat change from rapid knocks against his small chest to even soothing beats. He imagined a sea of fog beneath him. That place inside his mind had always been quiet and eerily silent, to the point where not even his breathing could be heard and thoughts became distant and subdued, if not all there.

Now, though, there was a change.

True, the unnatural silence reigned even now, but in the expanses of dirty grey clouds Hadrian could feel something else, something foreign and taxing for his organism. He mentally floated to the place the alien feeling was coming from and stared in interest at the peculiar phenomenon of his mind.

It was a thread, no, actually, more like a thick _rope_ running from the abyss that was the depths of his mind, from far beneath the clouds. It was connecting whatever was veiled from his gaze below with the boundaries of this place. It was piercing the invisible border of his mind and proceeded outside, where the living world was waiting for him.

Hadrian had never gone deeper than where he was now, and watched the twisting rope with something akin to disappointment in his eyes. He wasn't ready to plunge deeper.

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of going deeper left him breathless with fear and wariness and made a shudder run down his spine.

Hadrian liked intrigue and mysteries but he valued his life even more.

Remembering what he had arrived here for, he crouched on the ominous cloud just near the rope. He wanted to see what would happen if he cut the connection, which, he had no doubts, led to Kamaria. Would she die again? Or, maybe, she would do something else entirely?

A disturbing idea came to Hadrian's mind. _'Wait. They've always told us how snakes are violent and won't hesitate to attack anyone. But Kamaria, even if pretty useless, has never struck me as an aggressive per- err, snake. Maybe this thing keeps her from attacking me? And if I remove it… Won't it mean that she will pounce at me or something?'_

Alert now, Hadrian edged away a bit. As if being out of the orphanage not enough, now there was a chance of a deranged snake attacking him!

His life was racing downside by each passing moment, and Hadrian felt depressed and helpless like never before. He was still a child, after all, and children were too 'dumb and immature', according to Mrs. Rickety, to make any astounding decisions.

He didn't agree with her on that part about intelligence, but he could readily admit that Milly always guided him whenever he was unable to do something or whenever he needed a piece of advice.

She was cool like that.

Hadrian glared at the rope with determination shining in his green eyes and decided that, well, if Kamaria would indeed attack him… He didn't know exactly what he would do but it would be something awesome. Something… magical.

He nodded to himself and gathered his willpower. Leaning forward, he hesitated before grabbing the rope – which, surprisingly, didn't hurt him – and tore it apart with his two tiny hands.

The sound was deafening, and for a second Hadrian felt a disturbing numbness settling in his ears. But the sensation went away as soon as it came, and a minute later, after a moment of hard breathing and stillness, Hadrian could proudly gaze upon the remnants of the rope.

It was burning slowly, almost painstakingly so, and Hadrian felt as if he had done himself no good: he was feeling more worn out than before, as if he had been carrying boxes filled with old bricks – something equally pointless but exhaustive all the same.

He decided that he had spent enough time in his… mind? Soul? Whatever and should be coming back now. Moreover, who knew what the snake could be doing with his unconscious body right now? She didn't have the rope chaining her anymore, after all.

Hadrian opened his eyes hastily and looked around for the snake, which would either be sulking or thinking of plans to assault him.

He found Kamaria a few feet away from him.

As it turned out, she was neither scheming nor pouting. She was simply lying on the ground, the blue and black coils twisted loosely. She didn't seem to breathe and when Hadrian called out uncertainly, she didn't respond.

He stopped in front of her and for a minute simply stood there, contemplating.

'_So, my first assumption was right. It seems like whenever I resurrect someone, it makes me tired. But if I snap this rope, they die again. Wonder if it would happen to humans, too. _Can_ I do this to humans at all?'_

The thought came out of the blue, but Hadrian tilted his head as he considered it. He had never thought about the things he could do as magic, so he hadn't tried to experiment with his powers. Now, though… Why not? The place was perfect – no annoying nosy caretakers and no scared children running away with girly shrieks whenever he so much as glared at them.

And if something goes wrong… Well, it's not like anyone would find out or investigate.

Hadrian looked around. Luckily, the graveyard seemed like a perfect place to carry out some tests, what's with plenty of corpses lying around, as if waiting for him. He felt like a child in a sandbox. Or a candy shop. Except that the sandbox could be cemented and the candy shop could be empty and it all depended on him.

He walked to the tombstones where Kamaria had sensed magic coming from. They didn't seem like much – ordinary stones with engraved epitaphs. Why would this place reek of magic?

Hadrian shook his head and sat down near the grave of the younger girl, Ariana. Only now he noticed that out of the whole cemetery only hers was clean and neat, without weeds that had taken over most of the other graves.

Maybe, it was magic? Or was the graveyard not so abandoned as it seemed?

Throwing these thoughts out of his head, Hadrian touched the earth, the coolness of it soothing him and ridding him of anxiety immediately. He could do it. He was certain. Hadrian concentrated hard; trying to summon up the same angered feeling he had felt when Jonathan and Bart had sneaked into his room. The same rage and indignation were thrumming beneath his soft skin at the thought, giving him power, fuelling it.

All the leftovers of powers he had, Hadrian rammed them into the ground, willing it to go deeper, where the corpse of that girl was. Belatedly, he thought that maybe she had already rotten away too much to function and wouldn't be able to walk even if she wanted to anyway – he had never been interested in how fast people decay to research - but it was too late to do anything now.

His breathing was uneven when Hadrian finally leaned away from the grave and the flowers on it. He was drained had some difficulty breathing. He looked around and strained his ears to hear something and screw up his eyes to see any movement.

Nothing.

It was as if he hadn't just given all his remaining powers to this girl. Hadrian scowled. How impolite of her not to appreciate it and rise like a good little corpse.

Sighing gloomily, Hadrian rose to his feet, determined to find someplace to rest.

Or, well, tried to. His legs had given in and he fell to the ground, utterly drained from the hours of walking through the forest as well as from the experiments with that magic thing. By the time Hadrian hit the ground, he had already been fast asleep, a peaceful expression on his face.

XXX

He was woken up by a loud continuous sound. After blinking rapidly a few times to shake off the sleep, Hadrian was fully aware that, yes, the ugly screeching was coming from somewhere beneath him and definitely belonged to a female.

Hadrian rose to his feet swiftly, disregarding the buzzing in his head as he did so. The screams alternated with wild laughter, which rang like bells in Hadrian's ears, and for a split second the boy doubted it was wise to free this person. However, he pulled himself together and rushed to dig up this girl (if this was her, of course. If not… he would be in a bit of trouble).

'_It was me to 'wake' her up. I think it's cruel to make her live for a few minutes – how long has she been alive, by the way? – only to destroy her connection to this world the next moment.'_

With determination, Hadrian used all the force his frail, almost sickly, body could hold and applied it to digging up the grave. It was hard labour, the kind he wasn't yet used to like the older children in the orphanage were, those, who worked at the mines. For him, it was something new and unbearably taxing. At this very moment Hadrian swore to himself that he would _never_ work as a miner.

The laughter-screaming, which bordered on hysterics, sent shudders down Hadrian's spine. Just to make it stop, he worked harder and harder, until, finally, his goal was accomplished and he was face to face with a beautifully adorned golden coffin.

Faltering, Hadrian raised his shaking dirty fingers to gently touch the lid and open the coffin. The girl who was inside got his breath caught in his throat.

She was beautiful, remarkably so, but this wasn't something particularly attention-grabbing. Hadrian was more shocked by her state of decay. Or, more correctly, complete lack of it.

"Aren't you supposed to be rotting? A skeeton?" Hadrian blurted out with wide emerald eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be polite to strangers?" the girl, _Ariana_, retorted. "Why are you this rude?"

They stared at each other for a long minute, appraising each other's appearance. Then, Ariana gave out a short ringing laugh and her curly blond hair shook with the motion. She raised her blue eyes to look at him, a small smile playing on her delicate face.

"I'm alive, right? It's not a dream, then…" Her expression was filled with wonder as she looked at Hadrian. "What is your name? Were you really the one to wake me up? You look so… small. I've heard from my brother that Necromancers exist, but he always told me they are scary and menacing."

Hadrian swallowed his offense at the word 'small', opting to focus on the many questions running through his mind instead. "Why do you look normal? You are completely unlike what I thought a corpse would look like."

Ariana looked surprised for a moment, but then only shrugged. "My brother cast a preserving charm, I guess. Maybe you have heard about him. He's not as well-known as Albus," she spat out the name, her expression darkening with hatred. Hadrian didn't know who this Albus fellow was, but he pitied him. "But he is really smart and powerful, only shy. And modest. I have never seen anyone more humble."

She paused and cast her eyes down, on her intertwined deathly pale hands. "Not that I have seen many people at all. My brother's name is Aberforth. Aberforth Dumbledore." Her smile shone radiantly as she remembered her beloved brother.

"Umm… Sorry, never heard about the guy. You have mentioned Necromancers and that they can somehow do the same things as me. Oh, and I'm Hadrian, by the way. Don't bother with saying your name, I have read it on the tombstone already."

"Necromancers can raise the dead, obviously." She looked at him as if he were stupid. "Haven't your parents ever told you fairy tales?"

Hadrian ducked his head and pressed his lips into a tight line. "I don't have them. Parents, I mean."

"Oh. Sorry. What's your surname, by the way? You don't look like a Dumbledore at all, but maybe we are distant relatives. I guess, a lot of years have passed since my death and we could be. All purebloods are interrelated, after all."

"Paradis," Hadrian said_. 'Purebloods? Interrelated? Ewww. Maybe, it's like in those stories of incest Kate has told us about. I really hope I'm not from such a family. Their children always have some kind of health problems.'_

Ariana stilled and her nice smile froze on her face. "I don't recognize this name. Your parents must be muggles, then. At least one of them." Her voice sounded hollow and Hadrian could feel anger mounting in her stance. His posture was guarded as he watched her with sudden wariness. Abruptly, she didn't seem so harmless and innocent anymore.

"Muggles?" he asked, tilting his head. He didn't recognize the term.

"People without magic." She said it in such a way as if being a muggle was a deep offense and something unnatural, not a normal occurrence. "They are different from us. They are prejudiced, malevolent, immoral, useless, and their intelligence is inferior to ours. They are like beasts, primitive and undignified. They-"

"I get it. You hate muggles. The only thing I can't understand is why. They are not _that_ different," Hadrian said puzzled, remembering Milly. She was the smartest person he knew and very proud and ambitious, not undignified in any way.

"Well, maybe they _are_ intelligent beings, but they don't understand us." She raised her head defiantly and, somehow, even with a wide smile on her face she didn't come across as friendly. "Never did, as far as history goes."

"You mean the Inquisition?" Hadrian asked, remembering a history book which briefly mentioned them. He frowned, thinking that if all those burned people were really witches and wizards, he could understand why someone could hold a grudge. Especially if they had grown with magic all around them.

Ariana laughed. "Oh, no, this was a Ministry tactic. You know about the Ministry, right? Oh, well, doesn't matter. What matters is that they were useful for once. They provoked muggles to start burning everyone deemed as a witch or a wizard. Too bad that the real ones know fire-repellent spells and were thus able to escape with only a tingle while poor muggles were burnt."

The smile didn't leave her face once despite the gruesome topic and Hadrian was starting to be crept out. Had he resurrected some sort of a loon? Her constant short laughs were unnerving and definitely made him question her already dubious sanity. He wondered if the resurrection had had something to do with it.

"I see." In reality he didn't, but those were just technicalities. And what in the world could this Ministry be? "Does that mean there are certain communities where only wizards live?"

Ariana shrugged in a carefree fashion. "Yes. Plenty of them, in fact. If you are interested, I think you could help me find my brother Aberforth. I'm certain he will lend you a hand." She paused and her eyes widened marginally. "What year is it now? I hope he is still alive."

"1969," Hadrian replied, looking at her in wariness. He didn't want to go looking for some stranger; all he wanted was to return to Milly who was probably fuming at him right now. The worry and desire to see her made him hurry to finish the conversation. "Do you know how to get to Mould-on-the-Wold from here?"

She didn't seem to hear him as she muttered, "Oh, dear, so many years… I would have been a Grandma if not for _him._" She shook her head and glanced at the boy, "This was my home village. I didn't die here, though. It was in Godric's Hollow. I guess that Aberforth wanted me to be buried with my mother in th place where my roots are."

"So, you must know the way, right?"

"I wasn't outside often. But I think I vaguely remember." Ariana rose from the coffin and stretched, making Hadrian wince at the sound of bones cracking loudly. "I _have_ been in the same position for a lot of years," she said pointedly at his dismayed stare.

"Whatever. Can you tell me what you _do_ know about wizards? I mean, you are a witch yourself. Where were you taught?"

Ariana stared off into distance at his question. "I was… homeschooled. You see, I had a bit of a condition, so my father taught me everything I know. Although, my father wasn't there because of a certain accident, so, admittedly, I don't know much. Only basic spells and such."

Hadrian just nodded. At least she had had her brother, whom she seemed to dearly love. More than a half of the children at the orphanage were much worse off, coming from the families of drunkards and druggies.

"Muggleborns usually learn magic at Hogwarts," Ariana started and, at Hadrian's confused stare, elaborated. "It's a school of magic. There are others throughout the world, but in Britain this is the only one except for specialized schools. At least, this was the case in my time. I don't know how things are now."

Hadrian absently nodded again. "Was it painful to die?" The question surprised both him and the blonde, making her lose her radiant smile for a moment.

She pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably as she spoke, "No, not really. My death was swift – it took just a moment. I think if you were tortured or dismembered, it would be very unpleasant."

"How did it happen?" Not that Hadrian really wanted to know – he asked just to pass time as they began to walk towards where the village presumably was. Hadrian decided to take Kamaria with him, even if she was the most incompetent snake he had ever seen – not that he had seen many – and touching her was gross.

At the question Ariana stopped momentarily before she began to walk again. "I was murdered." She giggled as if it were the most amusing thing in the world. Hadrian edged away from her. He didn't want to spend time with someone who was chuckling at being _dead_.

He didn't want to think of what would happen if she suddenly decided that maybe murdering someone else was fun, too.

"You are not asking me who did it."

"There is no need," Hadrian said honestly. "Look, we barely know each other and if you can't tell me anything about the Wizarding World, then you can show me the way to the village and after that we can part ways. You can keep you secrets to yourself." In reality, he planned to experiment with the rope but he wasn't telling her that.

When he turned around to look at the falling behind girl, he was surprised to find an astonished expression on her face. He decided that he certainly preferred it to the creepy grin.

Unfortunately, this blissful state of non-smiling didn't last long and a happy smile bloomed on her thin face again and eyes danced with mirth.

"You are strange," she said lightly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Look who is talking."

"I have never seen someone like you. Do you want me to tell you my life story?"

"No."

"You really don't? Odd. I have always thought that people like drama. And my life had a lot of that; it must be entertaining to hear. I can tell you in everything exchange for a small favour."

"I told you, didn't I?" Hadrian snapped in annoyabce, feeling frustration stir inside of him. He wanted to get to his friend as soon as possible; he had so many questions to ask Milly. And this girl was practically a waste of time anyway. "Your sob story doesn't interest me at all. If I refused to listen to it for free, why would I agree to do it in exchange for something? You make no sense. No sense at all."

"Aww," she suddenly squealed, latching herself at him and ignoring his horrified gaze. "You looked so adorable here, acting all cynical and displeased, like a feisty kitten." When she calmed down from her outburst, she said quietly, "Accepting will be beneficial to you, too."

"In what way?"

"You see, I want to look for Aberforth. I don't know exactly if he lives or no, but I have a feeling he does. If you help me search for him, I will ask him to help you to adjust to our society and tell you everything he knows about wizards. Perhaps I could even make him adopt a magical orphan like you. You won't need to return to muggles anymore."

"And why do I have to strain my ears to listen to your life story?" Hadrian asked, honestly confused. He didn't want to feel the anticipation and the excited thrumming in his chest at the word 'adoption'. But it was there, and this hope was as bad as the despair he had felt some hours ago while wandering in the dark forest because he knew that there were no good things in the world. At least, they didn't happen to him.

The only joy of his life was his friendship with Milly, and, come to think of it, wouldn't he be forced to leave her because of adoption? Panic tightened its coils around his chest and Hadrian felt a bit of a difficulty to breathe. No, he wouldn't let that happen.

But if that man could tell him about Hogwarts… Hadrian could always use Milly's connections to track him down swiftly and efficiently.

"You won't understand if I don't tell you everything," Ariana said softly. "Not to mention that I was silenced for too long. I just want to get it all out and you are the only person around right now. Who knows, maybe you will fill compassion towards me and help me get my revenge."

'_Revenge? This is getting interesting. Well, I guess I could listen to her. Maybe she will tell something useful in the end.' _

Hadrian nodded to her and said, "Go ahead. I promise to try my best to find this man if he is in Britain. But I must warn you: if he is anywhere else, go yourself. He isn't the only wizard in the world."

Ariana beamed and Hadrian feared that she would hug him again. Fortunately, she restrained herself just in time and began her story, throughout which Hadrian was surprised to find himself feeling sympathy, sorrow and even anger on her behalf.

XXX

_Flashback/_

_Little Ariana stood in front of a flower-bed of withered plants, watching them with an adorable frown on her young face. She loved her mother's daffodils; they were of such a pretty yellow colour. Because of a dog playing inside the flower-bed, however, the leaves and tender petals were battered and the girl wanted with all her mind to change that._

_She looked around. They lived close to muggles but it was evening and no one would see, right? She could use magic and fix everything and gaze at the beauty of nature again. Her mother was shopping for some books with her aloof but smart elder brother Albus, tagging the nice Aberforth along, and her father was at work. No one would see._

_She held up her tiny hands in front of her and closed her eyes. Her instincts and a profound wish led her as she willed for the plant to bloom again. The outstretched palms of her hands were enveloped in brightly glowing green light, as pretty as the slowly reviving flowers._

_When she was done with it, she clapped her hands and let out a sweet laugh._

_It was interrupted by a muted scream and a stone flying her way. She turned around, only for the stone to hit her square in the eye, making tears of pain appear in the corner of it. Falling to the ground, she raised her head to look at the intruders and saw a few boys climbing over the fence in the peaceful garden._

"_Freak! You are freaky!" One of them shouted with a venom she had never expected of someone close to her age. It hurt almost as much as the stone. "John, did you see it too?"_

"_Yeah, yeah. We have to do something. She's a witch! I'll tell Mommy!"_

"_We have to do something ourselves. We can't leave it like that! What if she vanishes before we bring the adults?"_

"_Is it possible?" one of the boys asked uncertainly, his eyes flickering to the frozen Ariana every now and then._

"_She's a witch, mate!" another boy exclaimed. "She can do _anything!_ I've heard that they can charm people into frogs and enchant men. I have never seen a witch, of course, but-"_

"_All right, they are dangerous, we understand. So, what do we do?"_

"_Let's punch her." The boy, John, decided with determination. "If we hurt her enough, she won't be able to move. And we will bring my parents."_

"_Oh, yeah, your parents work in the police, right? They'll know what to do!"_

_Ariana was watching the exchange with clouded eyes and couldn't understand why anyone would want to hit her. She doubted they would go through with it, but her Mommy had always told her that muggles were like that and she should never reveal her secrets to them, and those boys were certainly muggles, and nobody was home, nobody would help…_

_When one of them approached her and a foot connected with her stomach, sharp pain overwhelmed Ariana to the point where only her own ache mattered, and she couldn't think about anything else. _

_Other hits followed and the mindless agony was everything she felt before a numbness she had never felt before settled in her mind and limbs like a parasite refusing to go away. She didn't hear her high-pitched voice screaming horse and didn't know that the bruises which would appear the next day wouldn't go away for many weeks to come._

_It was the first time little Ariana wanted wizards to have Gods she could pray to but, alas, the only possible thing for her was to beg for her mother to come and save her, both mentally and outwardly._

_When she was on the verge of blissful unconsciousness, she could hear the characteristic sound of Apparition cracking in the air and her sixth sense unmistakably told her it was her father coming home from work. Ariana's tears of pain changed into tears of relief as she saw her assumptions be true._

_She heard her father let out an animalistic growl and immediately wanted to reassure him that everything was all right, she was still alive if a bit battered and he shouldn't be so angry at those children – it wasn't their fault they were born without magic and envied her for it._

_But with her throat throbbing Ariana couldn't let the feelings inside of her be known and could only helplessly watch her father, her kind, soft-spoken, gentle father, torture the boys._

_Then, Apparition was heard once more and Ariana saw people in bloody red cloaks surround them and restrain her Daddy, who had tears streaming down his wizened cheeks. She wanted to wipe them but her hand only barely moved. And she was certainly in no condition to walk._

_Those people bound her father and took him away, and all Ariana could do was to weakly watch her proud father scream and rage._

_XXX_

"_When will Daddy come back to us?" Ariana asked her devastated mother, who had dark circles surrounding her dull eyes and whose usually impeccable hair hung limp and greasy._

_Kendra raised her eyes to look at her sweet daughter lying in a white bed with bandages covering every inch of her skin. The sight of her sick and hurting daughter made a new bout of tears stream down her gaunt cheeks. She launched forward to embrace Ariana with trembling hands._

_She couldn't utter a word and Ariana, even in her childish mind, understood that something bad had happened and her Mommy was too pained to talk about it._

"_He is- He is not coming back, dear," wiping away her tears, Kendra whispered, cradling her beaten up daughter in her thin arms. It was difficult to embrace her while minding the injuries and the bright blue bruises, but the woman was too shaken to deprive herself of this small comfort – of knowing that her daughter had survived the violence those wretched muggles had unleashed upon her._

"_Mother." Came a high-pitched voice, and Kendra loosened her embrace. She didn't need to turn around to see the person who entered. She would always distinguish her younger son's voice._

_The next moment Aberforth took a seat on the other side of Ariana's bed and smiled at his beloved sister, familial love shining in his eyes. Ariana grinned back, albeit in a tired and sickly fashion._

"_Where is Albus?" Kendra asked her son, interrupting the brother-sister moment._

_Aberforth's expression darkened and he spat out with fury clouding his brilliant blue eyes, "The git is studying, like always. As if it's the most important thing in the world, more important than family, even."_

_Kendra rose from her seat. "I'll talk with him. It disturbs me that he hasn't come to visit Ariana even once. It's his sister, for Merlin's sake!"_

_Aberforth nodded. "He's an asshole like that. I doubt, though, that even if you talk to him, he will do something about it. Such people never change."_

"_Language. Why are you so hostile to him? Usually you two are always friendly and like to play together." Aberforth and Kendra had already exited the room by this time and their voices were faint. But Ariana still heard Aberforth's reply and it would thunder in her mind for years to come, making her experience a most profound guilt._

"_He thinks it's Ariana's fault that father isn't coming back. That he is as good as dead now."_

_Those words were like drums in the girls ears, resounding loudly and making it impossible to think about anything else. _

_Her fault._

_Her brother believed so and Albus had always been the smartest of the three siblings. The most able wizard whenever their father taught them on those wonderful Sundays, he was a bright students in the muggle village, too. He never made mistakes, and this time he probably hadn't made a mistake, too._

_Their family was torn apart, with Kendra in shambles and depression, Aberforth and Albus quarreling for the first time in years and their father forever unreachable. They were all on the point of breaking._

_And it was all Ariana's fault._

_This was the day when insanity first sank its claws in her._

_XXX_

"_Does this place have more magical people?" asked Albus when the entire family was standing on the lawn in front of their new house. It wasn't that big, certainly much smaller than their previous manor. But without Percival, who had brought all the money to the family and with Kendra home, they had to economize. It wouldn't do to spend everything on a house when they had Hogwarts tuition fees and clothes and food to buy._

"_Of course, ALbus." Kendra smiled a strained smile at her oldest son. "It was the mai reason we moved here, after all." Against her will, her blue eyes peeked at her daughter. _

_Ariana was quiet, thankfully, but the woman knew that it wouldn't last long. Her body had mostly recovered, but mentally… _

_Numerous bouts of hysterics, flashes of anger and hatred, attempts to kill herself… Kendra didn't know what had happened – everything seemed quite all right in the beginning – but the girl was unstable and her magic felt it, too._

_All the witnesses were removed thanks to her imprisoned for it husband, but they had moved all the same. Ariana's sudden bouts of accidental magic were strong and alarming, and the woman could never predict what they would influence next. They were a walking danger to society, and Kendra wanted to start anew, somewhere they could live without being too conspicuous._

_It was too much to hope for when it concerned the now infamous Dumbledore family._

"_You are the Dumbledores, right?" An old woman whom Kendra vaguely recognized as the historian Bathilda Bagshot came closer with a pie in her hands. "I've heard that you are moving here."_

"_Obviously," drawled Kendra, pressing her daughter closer to her._

"_Is it because of your husband?" Bagshot neared Kendra and clutched the younger woman's arm. "Oh, dear, to have your husband locked away in Azkaban!" She shook her head sorrowfully, either ignoring or not seeing the growing cold fury on Kendra's face. "A wizard from an old Light family attacking muggles. Unthinkable! I fully understand why you wanted to leave your home village."_

"_It's not father's fault." Albus cut in with a displeased expression, his fingers clenched into tight fists. "It's because of-"_

"_Anbus!" Kendra cried out but before she could punish her son for his insolence, Aberforth punched him roughly in the face with anger lacing his movements._

"_Boys! Stop fighting right now!" Kendra smacked both of them lightly, though she applied a little bit more force on Albus. She tried to ignore Bagshot's curious eyes on her family._

"_Mrs. Bagshot. I think you should come back another time," she said slowly, turning to look at the old woman._

"_Of course, of course. I see. Well then, I'm sure we will spend a lot of enjoyable hours together as new neighbours." With a last intrigued glance at them, especially at Albus, Bagshot left._

"_Nosy old hag," Kendra muttered under her breath before addressing the boys with controlled coldness. "You will go into the house right now and wait for me. Unpack for now before I think of what your punishment could be,"_

_The boys nodded; Aberforth with a sense of righteousness in his eyes and Albus with a mulish expression, belying what he thought of being punished for such measly reasons. They went into the house under the watchful gaze of Kendra, who made sure that they won't fight again._

"_It really is my fault." The soft statement made Kendra look at her daughter. She smiled softly, albeit brokenly, and wiped away Ariana's tears._

"_No, it isn't. Albus is just acting foolish. He admired your father greatly and, probably, it is him who has suffered the greatest loss."_

"_Who do I blame, then, if it's not me?"_

_Kendra's eyes went cold, all the gentle warmth crept out of them as she spoke. "Blame the muggles. For everything."_

_Confused at how people without magic who were in all ways inferior to her, according to Albus, could be at fault, Ariana nodded, her blond hair shaking with the motion. She followed her mother inside, taking in her surrounding curiously and relishing in the quite rare moments of peace._

_Blame the muggles, huh._

_XXX_

_A couple of years had passed since the Dumbledores moved from the Mould-on-the-Wold to Godric's Hollow. _

_In a two years Aberforth would go to Hogwarts, leaving Ariana alone with her mother. He didn't study much, preferring to spend his free time with his dear little sister and to help his mother, who was growing tired and more and more isolated with every passing day._

_Albus scorned and mocked him; he, himself, was considered a prodigy in Hogwarts and everyone talked how he would become famous and great and will go down to history as a renowned inventor. The boy bwhaved humbly and modestly in public, but inside he was taking pride in the fact that he would achieve something his father hadn't. And he wanted to bring back the glory to their family._

_The last of the Dumbledore siblings, Ariana, hadn't changed much either in appearances or in her mental state. Dainty and delicate, she would have been a darling child in the village if she didn't have her abysmal bouts of insanity, which had become more frequent. Now, not a single day passed without her breaking at some point._

_Like it was today._

_The girl was standing in the centre of the room with a whirlwind of magic surrounding her protectively, like a lioness would her child. Books were ripped apart and pages were floating around the short figure along with a dozen other objects. Kendra wanted to embrace her daughter but when a floating knife grazed her shoulder, she decided against it._

"_Ariana!" she screamed but her desperate shout was disregarded by the blonde. The woman fell on her kness and cried, tired of their endless struggle for Ariana's sanity._

"_It's so pretty, Mommy! Don't' you see it?" Ariana let out an innocent giggle and her face shone with joy. The bunny Kendra had given her as a present whimpered when another needle from a sewing kit sank into its furry paw._

"_Yes, dear, it's very beautiful, but don't you think the rabbit doesn't want to play with you anymore?" Kendra tried, her eyes pleading and face looking even more haggard than usual._

_The whirlwind calmed, somehow, and the woman took it as a cue to come closer and clutch her daughter's shoulders. She wanted to shout at her, scold her, so badly that it was almost unbearable, but restrained herself just in time._

_The past mistakes had taught her it wasn't safe to criticize the girl._

_Instead, she said gently, brushing a lock of blond hair off Ariana's face., "Now, sweetie, look at what you have done. Mommy will have to clean this mess. Don't' you feel even the smallest bit guilty about it?"_

_The girl's smile melted away and she stared at her mother with hurt evident in her features. "I'm a burden?"_

"_No! I never-"_

"_You don't love me," Ariana muttered, looking at the floor unseeingly. "And Albus blames me. Aberforth will leave me, just like Daddy did, and I will be alone."_

_Panic clutched Kendra's heart; she knew what was coming. "Sweetie, Daddy was different. He didn't leave us willingly-" She reached out to touch her daughter but her hand was slapped away roughly._

"_NO!" Ariana cried out and the fear in her eyes made Kendra's throat constrict with never-forgotten pain. Her touch must have reminded Ariana of her tormentors, the boys who had beaten her ruthlessly._

_The lamp began to shake and all the doors in the house creaked as they opened and closed repeatedly. Kendra knew that if she didn't do something to improve the situation, eventually Ariana's powers of terror would reach the fence and then everyone would know about their situation, as if that nosy Bagshot wasn't enough._

_Despondently, Kendra grabbed her wand and she didn't know what made her mouth utter the fateful word._

"_Imperio!" she shouted, the wand in her shaking hand pointed at the wide-eyed daughter._

_When the curse hit her, the turmoil around them ceased as abruptly as it had begun, leaving only scattered objects in its wake. Kendra stood there with a flabbergasted expression, her cheast heaving and breathing uneven. She couldn't believe what she had just done. To curse her own child! Percival would have hated her for it._

_But Percival wasn't there, and after careful thinking, Kendra realized that this was probably for the best. At least no one would ever find out. No one would ever condemn their family anymore for producing a mentally unstable daughter and Ariana would never be taken away._

_It was for the best._

_Kendra stooped down to place a gentle kiss on Ariana's small forehead, ignoring the smile that didn't touch the eyes and the emptiness in them._

"_Aberforth would cry if you were to be taken away," she breathed in her daughter's hair, closing her eyes and inhaling the citric scent. "He loves you so much, so much. And I, too, would be so crushed."_

_But no one would discover the secrets of Dumbledore family. Kendra had made sure of it._

_XXX_

_When the news came that Percival had died – rotten away in that horrible place called Azkaban – Ariana wanted to cry and let her grief be known to the world. Except that she couldn't. Imperio kept her from doing anything her mother didn't want and Kendra certainly didn't want Ariana to add to the dreadful atmosphere reigning in the family._

_The girl could only watch with hollow eyes notification letter that had arrived earlier that day. They weren't even allowed to go to the funeral – Azkaban policy and all that. The girl had thought she had forgotten about her father, but now the old pain returned, tormenting her during the rare moments of lucidness from Imperio._

_Kendra hadn't been that powerful, especially compared to her daughter, so sometimes her tight control slipped and Ariana could think for herself without the sweet voice echoing in her ears. The voice that restricted her will and whispered promises of relief even during the night. Her dreams were filled with its lulling sounds, making her meek and docile, exactly how Kendra wanted. _

_The twelve year old girl wanted to share this with someone but how? She couldn't speak her mind and, somehow, the voice in her head went away only when Albus was at home. She knew it was useless talking to him anyway – his fascination with that Grindelwald boy, Bagshot's relative, keeping him busy._

_Ariana's resentment of her eldest brother had grown rapidly. Being a silent observer, she could see how Albus did his best to return their family to its former glory. She respected his desire and perhaps even admired him for it. Nevertheless, she would have appreciated friendly behavior and his presence in the house much more._

_And now he was so absorbed in the other boy that he was barely there, and when he deigned them with his presence, his mind was constantly on other, secret, things. _

_Sometimes, Ariana wondered what it was that kept him so busy._

"_Do you need anything?" Aberforth said from behind her before joining her at the table. He took the note in his hands and shook his head. He didn't seem to feel as much devastation as Ariana felt but that was only understandable; he hadn't been the reason for him imprisonment._

"_No, thanks," Ariana replied dully, staring far off into the space._

"_Um… Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I know how our father was cherished by you."_

_Ariana wanted to talk, to remember all the happy times they had had, when her eyes weren't glazed by either the fog of Imperio or insanity, when Albus was still someone reliable she could call a brother and when she didn't hate Kendra for what she had done._

_Indeed, the only constant presence in Ariana's life was Aberforth. Her dearly loved brother hadn't changed much, only become more independent because of the work he had to do part-time and taking care of herself and Kendra, whose health was failing slowly but surely. Whle people praised and hailed Albus for his outstanding talent and magical power, she knew that the stronger one was Aberforth._

_She wanted to tell him that, too, tell him of her admiration, but what came out was a cold "I don't think talking is needed. I'd like to be alone."_

_Aberfirth faltered and hurt was evident in his face. "If you say so. I just-"_

"_You should go. The train to Hogwarts leaves in a couple of hours. Make sure that you have taken everything you need."_

_With a crushed expression, Aberforth nodded and tried to grin unconcernedly, but it didn't came out well. He placed a kiss on his sister's forehead and brushed a thumb across her cheek._

"_Take care, Ariana. I'll try to come back as soon as possible."_

_She wanted to shout him to stay with her for a bit, but the curse prevented her from it._

_Ariana understood all the reasons Kendra had to make her stay like this._

_She knew she didn't exist in the eyes of their neighbours, except for Mrs. Bagshot, but that woman was easily silenced by the rare History books their library contained. Kendra realized that if sanity returned to Ariana completely, the girl would have to be introduced to the Wizarding World and it would be a tad difficult to explain where she had been the years before._

_Moreover, the woman was too used to her docile daughter couldn't imagine any other life. _

_That's why it was much easier to keep the curse and make Ariana seem anti-social and mentally unstable to everyonr, even though her insanity had dwindled into non-existence during the past years._

_Her hatred for her mother was slowly becoming too excruciating to bear._

_XXX_

_She could hear them arguing. _

_Kendra had died during an accident, much to Ariana's relief and now the girl was technically free. It was such a pity that her brothers couldn't decide whom to ship her off._

_Their voices rang loudly throughout the house and they probably didn't think her stable enough to understand what they were quarreling about. And the subject of their heated argument was her placement. Strangely enough, Albus's boyfriend, Gellert Grindelwald, was also present, although as an observer mostly, entertaining himself with the discussion._

"_I cannot spend all my time here, Aberforth!"_

"_And why the hell not? She is our sister! You could make yourself useful at least one fucking time!"_

"_I'm sure she can stay by herself for a little while, she is not a small child, for Merlin's sake! You have put her on a pedestal when nothing else but her matters."_

"_You know of her condition, Albus. What the fuck is so important that you can't look after her for a few days?" _

"_Gellert and I are going to Paris on the Annual National Wizarding Conference. Can you imagine it? Nicolas Flamel, Newt Scamander, countless other famous researchers and Masters and inventors! This is a place our family can regain its former standing. Just imagine the connections I can make there! I'm positive that nothing grave will happen if she is left here."_

"_Nothing grave? How dare-"_

_Crashes resounded in the room and with dawning apprehension Ariana stared at the door. A few others were heard and she understood that, indeed, they were dueling between themselves because of her._

"_Stop it!" Ariana cried out, pushing the doors open. It hurt to hear Albus speaking about her with such disregard, as if she were merely an annoying burden, not his sister. "Enough of it. I can stay here. It's nothing, Albus, you can go…"_

_Her soft voice was unheard in the commotion and in the flickering light of spells she doubted her presence had been noticed at all. Just as Aberforth was casting a particularly vicious hex at Albus, Arianafelt someone watching her._

_Blue eyes locked with hazel ones and Ariana felt a shudder running down her spine. She had a gut feeling that this boy wouldn't be good news for her. He raised his hand, his fingers clutching the wand, and smiled disarmingly before doing some strange circular movements with it._

_His victorious smirk and Aberforth's miserable scream of loss was the last thing she had heard before feeling relieving numbness carry her away._

_/End Flashback._

_XXX _

Hadrian stared in silence as the words seemed to leave the girl in front of him.

Strangely enough, he felt pity despite her being only a stranger. He could sympathize with her pain – both of them had been hated by non-magical people because of their powers and had to endure this hatred. But Hadrian had never experienced years of being silenced with a curse binding him and forbidding him from speaking what he wanted to.

It was the first time when he realized that, maybe, this Wizarding World wasn't like in fairy tales and some fantasy books, where everything had a happy end and justice prevailed. It seemed like a cruel, ruthless place filled with grief, constrictions and insanity.

And people in it were like everywhere else.

"I want revenge," Ariana said suddenly, her voice breaking the dead silence of the late evening.

"On this boy, Gellert, you said?"

"Yes. I don't know if he is dead already, but I really hope not. I want to see the bastard _scream_."

"Because he killed you," It was more of a statement rather than a question because, well, he would have _loathed_ to be killed, and Hadrian was very surprised when the girl shook her head.

"It's not just the fact that he stripped me of my life after I was finally free. I know that Albus would have been kinder and generally better if not for him."

A companionate silence that fell on them was broken by Ariana a few minutes later.

"Why do you want to go to the village this late?" Ariana inquired. "If you had wanted to sleep, I could have shared my coffin with you."

The revulsion on Hadrian's face must have been evident because the girl burst out laughing. "Don't worry, it's soaked with anti-insects spell and many others. I think it's even cleaner than some people's beds."

"I see. Still, it wouldn't be comfortable for me. Or particularly pleasant, for that matter." Hadrian looked up when the trees became fewer and eventually he could see the outlines of the village.

"We have arrived," Ariana commented needlessly and Hadrian felt joy blooming inside him.

He was going to see Milly. He only hoped that she wouldn't be too angry at him. He doubted that he could revive himself.

XXX

**I have always wondered about Ariana and I think her life was fascinating in a peculiar kind of way. I really couldn't hold back from writing her childhood. She will be one of the main characters in the story as well as Aberforth and, of course, Albus. I really hope you'll like her :)**

**Oh, by the way, I won't do much Albus-bashing. While he might seem like a big jerk in Ariana's memories, I think that's how he was before her death: a bit like Percy, only with more talent and ambition.**

**Well, till next time :) **


	5. Chapter 5 Complications and Explanation

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. See how his life will turn out when he acquires an unusual guardian, crazy friends and a feared ability. Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

A/N: Hello! I really, really thank you for your kind reviews! They gave me enough motivation to write more.

I know that it much time has passed since last chapter, but I was away on a contest, the winners of which can choose any university they like and study there without taking any exams. And guess what? Somehow, I passed! XD So, now I needn't bother with school and can devote much more time to writing.

While I didn't have an access to a computer, I still had my notebook and have written quite a lot there. So, **the next chapter will be out on Sunday**, and will be even longer than this one!

The answers to some of your reviews:

Harry isn't going to be Light. I'm going to make him a bit on the Darker side of Grey, but not completely Dark either, 'cause he likes Milly, and has nothing against muggles. So, there will be corpses, and war, and tortures, and all this gory stuff, but he won't suddenly declare himself a pureblood supremacist and run around proclaiming himself superior to 'filthy muggles'. ;)

Corpses Harry resurrects can do whatever gets into their heads, lol. Unless he learns to control his powers better, of course. Ariana is mad but harmless, while Kamaria… Well, you'll see in this chapter :D

Don't worry about Harry's power level. I assure you that my sadistic streak will prevent him from becoming too godlike. Even if he might sometimes seem too powerful, it will only be a small respite before I drop a new bomb on him.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 5.** Complications and Explanations.

Mould-on-the-Wold was a dying quaint village with a population of about a dozen of families. The whole place looked dirty and abandoned, with lots of rubbish lying around in the deserted streets. There were no street lamps around, and the only source of light was the windows, hidden by the shadows of old trees. Hadrian could barely see his surroundings in the dim shine of the crescent moon.

He honestly couldn't comprehend how one would choose to live in such a God-forsaken place far from any signs of civilization. Maybe, it was because the village was eerily similar to the orphanage – the pinnacle of darkness, gloominess, and hopelessness.

"It didn't use to be like this in my days," Ariana replied to Hadrian's quizzical glance as they over stepped a leaflet lying on the ground. Her smile had a sad tint to it despite the girl's careless shrug.

"I've heard from my friend that a businessman, Michael Appleby or something, bought most of the houses here," the boy decided to share, taking pity on his new acquaintance. "God knows what he needs them for, though. He doesn't do anything with them. Doesn't sell, doesn't redecorate… They simply say the way they are."

"What a waste," the blonde whispered regretfully. "Some of these houses were really beautiful when I lived here."

"I was under the impression that you weren't allowed out?"

"Well, it was after my dear mother Imperioed me and kept me hidden from the world. Before, I was just the same as any Light wizard. Muggle-loving and naïvely foolish."

"Light wizard?" Hadrian asked curiously, tilting his head to a side. He hadn't heard about this term yet. Somehow, it once again made him remember fairy tales with some evil magicians in them and brave heroes who fought them with valour to liberate some town or princess from the macabre forces of dark.

He had never liked those stories. They seemed so far from being realistic that it wasn't funny. The good didn't always win over the bad. Dainty princesses turned out to be manipulative bitches, and the bravery of the heroes wasn't that at all but rather a desperate attempt to bring glory to themselves and their families.

Real life was different. Some of the things Hadrian had seen in the orphanage had marked his psyche in a way that would be irremediable in the years to come. He actually thought that no matter how much time passed, he would always remember the hunger and coldness of late evenings spent in the fetal position because of the savage winds sweeping through the window. The same could be said about the insults and fear of the other children, which had hurt Hadrian deeply in his heart no matter how much he tried to hide or deny it.

There was no absolute good and no absolute bad. If there was a way to be something in-between, Hadrian knew it would be his path.

"Light wizards are the ones with the affinity for Light magic, of course," Ariana explained shortly as if it were enough to understand.

'_Well, maybe, for a wizard it _is_ enough, but all this stuff about muggles, muggleborns, purebloods, and now Light wizards and Light magic makes me dizzy. Why all those complications?'_ the boy thought, irritation darkening his features momentarily.

"Not magical, remember? If you want me to understand you and help you, at least be gracious enough to explain what you mean."

Ariana sighed and twirled a lock of blond hair between her thin fingers. "There are basically two types of magic, which are divided into countless subcategories: Light and Dark. Some muggleborns make the mistake of thinking that Light magic means healing while Dark magic means hurting someone, but it's not entirely true. Light magic does include healing, but it also includes spells against Dark creatures, wandmaking and portrait-making as well as most of weather-connected charms and the whole branch of elemental magic."

"And what about Dark magic?"

Ariana made an uncertain motion with her shoulder and shifted her gaze to the ground below their footsteps. "I don't know much. I was little when my magical education stopped completely, and our family has been one of the most sickeningly Light ever. Dark magic is basically about dueling spells and fighting magic, but it also comprises summoning, magic to restrict one's will or to cause unbearable pain. Oh, by the way, your skill, necromancy, is part of Dark magic, too."

"Does it matter?"

"To me? Not really. I mean, I've never even met a Dark wizard. Other than Grindelwald, of course, but I'm not sure what kind of magic he uses. His aunt – that nosy historian Bathilda Bagshot – was pretty much Light, however annoying. Still, there are a lot of people who would hate you just for being born a Necromancer. You'd have to be really careful if you don't want to find yourself come to a sticky end."

"I thought that Light wizards are supposed to be good, merciful and all that. Would someone really kill me just for being born the way I am?" It seemed a bit too morbid even for Hadrian. The people at the orphanage never loved him, but to outright kill him…

"Light wizards can be as violent as Dark wizards are believed to be," Ariana explained patiently, her eyes dimming as she stared at the houses they were passing by without really seeing them. "You can just remember my mother, for instance. The only difference is that Light is generally associated with day, life, goodness, honesty, etc."

"The more I learn about wizards, the less I want to meet them," Hadrian said, sounding unimpressed.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

"Surprisingly, I don't even want to," Hadrian muttered, looking at the ground below his feet. Ariana just shrugged in response, and both of them continued the walk in quiet, which was interrupted solely by the occasional sharp croak of a crow in the darkness of the evening.

They didn't have to walk long, though. The village was almost claustrophobically small and with Ariana there Hadrian held no fear of being lost in the maze of deserted wrecked cottages, most of which seemed so frail that Hadrian was sure they would fall down after a mere touch.

In a few minutes Hadrian and Ariana came to a stop in front of a sort of a square with a miniature stony fountain in the centre of it. The fountain, though out of use for years, and having numerous cracks on its marble surface, was a bizarre spot of novelty in contrast with the picture of dilapidation that was the rest of the village.

Hadrian knew that if one was to go a bit further, one would find an old building of unknown purpose. The raven-haired boy proceeded to do exactly that.

With a tilt of his neck, he motioned for Ariana to follow him. He ignored her skeptical stare at the broken windows and dirty concrete walls as they carefully sidestepped pieces of glass and debris on the foully smelling wooden floor inside of the house.

When Hadrian and Milly had found this place at first, on an excursion, which they had dismissed as useless (what was there to see in a desolate village?), they were surprised that despite the concrete of the walls, the floor, the staircase, and countless pieces of furniture were all made of yew of some kind.

The terrible headaches Hadrian had been feeling only increased at the sickeningly sweet stench of rotting wood coming from the furniture, which obstructed the place and made it difficult to move.

Actually, some dark spots were dancing in Hadrian's vision and his posture wavered a bit as he felt weak in his knees. One moment he was afraid he would fall down and break his nose or something – because that sometimes happened to the children Milly and her gang beat up. Sure, the cause of the fall was different, but still – yet the boy was very relieved to find Ariana's deathly cold hand grabbing his arm, supporting it.

"Are you all right?" she asked, and there was something akin to real worry in her azure eyes. It surprised Hadrian: no one had ever looked at him like that. Other than Milly, of course, but in his mind he had always separated her from the rest of the orphanage.

After a second of wavering, Hadrian dismissed the girl's words as the care of someone resurrected by a Necromancer, as she seemed to call him.

"Yeah," he said, a frown marring his forehead as the boy regained his composure.

They heard heave footsteps coming down the stairs and raised their heads to see the newcomer. Hadrian's eyes met the angry gaze of one Milly Spice. He internally winced. Even his headache seemed to pass momentarily. Angry… would be putting it mildly.

"Where have you been?" How one could hiss so loudly through gritted teeth was a secret Hadrian would probably never uncover. "I was worried, you little idiot!" She came to a halt right in front of the boy, whose face scrunched up when bits of spittle fell on his pale face. Yet, he didn't make a move to wipe it off.

"It's been only a few hours!" He brought up his hands in front of him defensively. "Well, half a day, actually. Still, it doesn't mean you have to be so loud about it," Hadrian muttered, rubbing his temples.

Milly apparently noticed his shaky condition, and decided to spare him from further worsening his monstrous headache.

Of course, it was done in her usual blunt fashion, not really different from anger.

"What's the matter with you, idiot?" she hissed, reminding Hadrian of Kamaria, who was 'sleeping' peacefully in the quietness of his back pocket. "I have been waiting for you all this time, and _this_ is how you repay me? Should I remind you whose fault it is that I had to use almost all of my blackmail material to persuade the old hag and her cronies to not throw you out for good?"

"_Please_, do stop your nagging-"

"Nagging!" Hadrian dully noted how Bart's screeches sounded girlier than hers. "Now, I am going to let you live in the streets for the rest of your life! Do you want me to go to this screechy fucking bitch and tell her to not let you come back?"

"You mean you really talked to her?"

"You know how persuasive I can be when I wish to. Of course, I settled the matters. It took some convincing that you are a bit touched to head from my part-"

"I'm what!" Hadrian snapped, appalled to the core. The next moment he winced under the assault of the pains in his head.

"And she believed me when I briefly mentioned her romance with her husband's best friend. She will let you come back on the condition that you will be thoroughly supervised. Guess who you supervisor is?"

"We will be able to spend more time together… Wait. I can't do this."

"Do what? Don't be stupid. If it's once again about repaying me, you can stick your promises up your-"

"It's not that. Well, I certainly am grateful to you and want to pay you back someday for all you have done to me, but… I can't return. I'm sorry."

"You fucking imbecile! The fuck you can't!"

Hadrian moved his eyes to look at a bored-looking Ariana, who had been silent up to that time deciding to simply listen to their argument. Milly followed the trajectory of his gaze and with the speed of a lightning bolt whipped out her trademark knife.

"Who are you? Do you want to die so badly that you came here?" Her cold was as cold as Arctic ice when in a few steps she reached the dreamy blonde and put her weapon to the smaller girl's neck.

'_She seems a bit like a mother hen when she does this. Though it's not like I'm going to tell her that. I want to live, thank you,' _Hadrian thought, looking with dull amusement at the scene to his left. He utterly disregarded his swelling headache.

However, as hilarious as it was to look how Ariana's smile dimmed until it completely disappeared in the fear of her overall expression, he preferred for his only link to this bizarre Wizarding World to not fall victim to Milly's sharp knife. Better not to destroy someone who could be of some use to him yet.

With a disappointed sigh at his fun cut short, Hadrian decided to intervene.

"Release her, Milly," Hadrian half-ordered to his friend. The dark spots before his eyes twirled and danced and with every passing second he felt weaker. "She's with me. I have a lot to tell you."

"Oh?" With a single sharp movement Milly let Ariana out of her grasp. Hadrian couldn't but admire her grace when she did that. Grace unexpected in someone of her weight and muscle mass. "I would _love_ to hear your explanations."

The boy decided to be blunt; God knew that he was on the verge of passing out and doubted he would get the whole story down before it happened.

"The thing is, I am-"

Unfortunately, he couldn't get even that far. Hadrian dimly heard Milly's worried shout and saw the wooden floor nearing him as he fall into the web of his unconsciousness. His last thought was that maybe finally he could rest a bit before confronting his best friend.

XXX

"And here I ask again. Who the fuck you are?"

The voice was familiar and, after a moment of hard thinking process, Hadrian recognized it as Milly's. He was confused at first, not understanding why she would ask him that, but then something in his mind clicked, and he realized that the question wasn't addressed to him but to someone else.

Slowly, he gathered his wits. Everything felt foggy, and he was still tired and exhausted, and didn't know how much time had passed. Had he been sleeping for hours? For a day? Or, maybe, it had been no more than just an hour?

He couldn't tell. His mind was in a haze, and his eyelashes fluttered when he tried to open his eyes.

He heard a slap but the only thing he saw was the blank ceiling. Hadrian's probing of the surface beneath him showed that he was in a bed of some kind, which lacked mattress and was stony hard for his spine, but with shaky legs.

'_At least it doesn't make any noises,'_ Hadrian thought with half-lidded eyes. He struggled to remember what exactly had happened, but the memories were as if covered by a film of some sort.

A clear but quiet voice replied something to Milly, and at hearing it, suddenly, the recollections sprung at Hadrian.

Right. Jonathan's death. Kamaria (where was she, by the way? He didn't feel her weight in his pocket anymore). Ariana. His embarrassing collapse.

Inside of Hadrian's head, the memories swirled and churned, making him dizzy. To remove this horrible haze, the boy grabbed the edges of the bed and pulled himself up into a sitting position.

While he himself ignored the covers falling down to the floor, it seemed that the sound, as faint as it was, attracted Milly's attention. The girl snapped her head to look at him, and her expression was one of vast relief. She rushed to Hadrian's side.

"You have slept for the whole evening and the night," she said disapprovingly, helping him stand up. Hadrian still felt faint in his knees, but at least he could stand. Now he only hoped he could walk as well.

"Really?" he muttered, taking a hold of Milly's shoulder to stabilize himself. His voice was throaty after so much sleep, and he scrunched up his face at the weak sound coming out of his throat. "What time is it?"

"About nine o'clock."

"It's so dark in here," Hadrian commented as they moved to the kitchen. He was awfully thirsty, the same feeling he had had when he had got a few mouthfuls of salty water into his mouth while swimming.

Dry throat, the dimness of the barely illuminated room, and the dizziness that made him cautious with every step he took, caused the boy to lean more heavily on Milly. For once, the girl didn't sneer at him for his moment of weakness and didn't say anything degrading.

"The windows are boarded-up. I thought you would notice." There was a bit of surprise in her tone: Hadrian had always been quite perceptive, which was coincidentally one of the main reasons Milly valued him so much as to make hi m her right hand and an advisor of sort.

To miss something like that was almost surreal to him.

'_I guess the headache was far worse than I had thought it to be,'_ he concluded.

The kitchen was small; the furniture comprising a table for four people, an old stove, and some kitchen cabinets. They were all made of different kinds of wood, and Hadrian fleetingly thought that the family, which had been living there before, must have been poor to buy furniture that didn't match at all.

All thoughts of any families ever living there before floated out of his head when Hadrian saw Ariana and the man standing by her side, holding her hands behind her back in an imitation of handcuffs. Hadrian recognized him as Milly's so-called left hand.

He didn't bother mustering up even a faintest of smiles in response to Ariana's own bright one. He remembered her being in the room when he was in that dreamy state between sleep and consciousness, and wondered how the girl managed to move from one room to another so fast and silently. Then he gathered that he had been too absorbed in his own well-being and wouldn't have noticed even elephants breaking into the house.

"I'm glad you are all right now," Ariana said and let out a short ringing laugh. "I had a hard time convincing your friend that I didn't threaten you or anything."

"I see."

And he did see. How could he not, when the purplish bruises on her arms alternating with occasional cuts screamed Milly's handiwork?

"Be silent!" Milly ordered sharply, glaring at the blonde. Such abhorrence didn't surprise Hadrian in the least: just like him, Milly was cautious and wary of strangers. More than that, the boy admitted that had he met Ariana somewhere in the street, he would be freaked out, too.

Despite her beautiful doll face, the air around her screamed madness.

The years spent under this Imperius Curse had clearly damaged her sanity more than she cared to admit.

"You can calm down now," Hadrian pointed out. "I did say she came with me, didn't I? Why are so against her, by the way? Usually you are more… tolerant."

"Yes. But this retard says she is," here Milly scoffed and pulled a lock of short black hair away from her eyes, "a _witch_. Can you believe it? Even that dumbass Bart sounded smarter. At least, the little worm could make better excuses than that."

Only now Hadrian took the time to acknowledge Ariana's quite cold expression. True, she was smiling, but the boy doubted she appreciated being held by 'muggles' as she called ordinary people.

Not to mention that the hold of the emotionless man on her hands didn't seem to be anything gentle.

"Umm… I think you should ask him to release her," Hadrian offered instead of answering Milly's past statement.

The girl was fumbling in the kitchen cabinets now, searching for some tea and sugar to give her friend. She turned around, her eyes widening with realization that she had forgotten all about the blonde freak.

"Brad!" she snapped her fingers dismissively, and the aforementioned young man released the girl.

Hadrian chose this moment to carefully study his friend's left hand, remembering every little detail about him.

Brad Ashton had a very frightening appearance, which was one of the main reasons Milly had noticed him in the vast mass of the people of the slums. Hadrian used to shudder every time he saw the older man, but by now the only thing he felt was a tinge of revulsion, followed by deep heartbreaking pity and sympathy. He didn't know what he would have done had he looked like that.

Ashton was a stocky young man, not yet an adult in body, but far from a teenager. He was quite short fo his age, too, which gave hope to Hadrian that even if growth spurt decided to ditch him, there would be at least one person the boy would be taller than.

The man had black hair, just like Milly's, and handsome manly Caucasian features.

Nothing that could make him that scary, right?

Other than his scars, of course.

Hadrian had gathered from Milly's stories that Ashton had gotten into an accident when he was a mere child. The house where he lived had been on fire, and, thinking it was some kind of a new game and how beautiful the dancing flames were, he decided to literally play with the fire.

The consequences were disastrous. A huge piece of ceiling fell on him, and he had been left with scars marring most of his upper body. His torso and right hand looked like a mash of blisters, and blood, and disgusting red skin. Half of his face was covered in all that, too, not to mention some sporadic spots of burns on the rest of his body.

The trauma caused by the shock of having debris falling down on him also caused Ashton to stop talking. It was something psychological, not at all physical, but no one had helped him completely forget the accident, and by now he was completely mute.

There was no teacher of finger language in the slums he had been left in after the demise of his parents, so Milly had helped him devise their own system, which she had then partly taught Hadrian.

The boy, from his part, never strived to spend more time with Ashton than strictly necessary.

He had never been the one to define people by their appearances – he _had_ befriended Milly, after all, who wasn't exactly a model – but the constant blankness of Ashton's face combined with the burns and the burly muscles made him a scary sight to behold. Scary and eerie.

No wonder Milly used the guy to 'gather information' by beating the crap out of everyone. Heck, some people didn't need any prompting: a lot of them were content to part with whatever exclusive information they had after one frightful glance.

The only thing that made Hadrian at ease was how Ashton always complied with Milly's sharp orders like a good little lapdog, implicitly trusting whatever decision she made.

Even now he didn't question her at all when he released Ariana's hands. The girl immediately rubbed them, and her expression clearly showed her discomfort.

"I want to talk to you about something important," Hadrian began vaguely. "But…" He trailed off, sending a pointed glance in Brad Ashton's direction.

Milly understood what he wanted to say. One flippant motion with her hand – and the man was gone, not even glancing back. At this, Hadrian felt reluctantly impressed: he doubted he could have quenched his own curiosity in his place.

The stout girl placed a cup of fragrant tea on the table before Hadrian. The boy felt the corners of his lips lift in a small thankful grin as he nodded in gratitude. He inhaled the aroma, and while it was nothing like the tea Milly had treated him to in a teahouse of London, it was still good enough.

After taking a sip of the delicious liquid, the boy closed his eyes in a moment of bliss. Then he looked up and, seeing Milly's questioningly tilted head and curious expression, decided it was time to make matters clear. His best friend deserved the truth after all she had done to him.

'_And I doubt that she is one of those people who believe in bad omens and that witches should be burnt on stakes.'_

"I am a wizard," he told her simply. A moment later a smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw her astounded expression. It wasn't often that he managed to surprise her with something. He wished to savour this moment and burn it into his memory as firmly as Ashton's scars had been burnt into his body.

Mily's shock didn't last long, unfortunately. Snapping out of it, she immediately rounded on Ariana.

"You! Have you brainwashed him?" She completely disregarded Hadrian's weak moves to stop her from shouting. "Are you gypsy?"

Furious, the girl closed the distance between herself and Ariana, making her take a step behind. It was a futile attempt at escaping: Milly's strong masculine hands roughly grabbed her thin shoulders; squeezing them to such an extent that Hadrian feared he would hear a snap of a broken bone.

Thankfully, it didn't happen as Milly seemed perfectly content with simply shaking her and shouting obscenities. It was amusing at first, but then the headache tugged at the corners of Hadrian's awareness. The fear that he would faint again, be so pathetically weak again, encouraged him to step forward and grasp Milly's large T-shirt to stop her from damaging Ariana any more than she already was.

"I have a headache, for heaven's sake!" he snapped, catching her attention with the annoyance in his voice.

Slowly, Milly blinked and released the bony shoulders out of her forceful fingers.

"Sorry," she apologized sincerely. They both knew that the apology wasn't because of her hitting Ariana but because she truly regretted raising her voice when her protégé was so drained.

"It's true. When I said I am a wizard, I really meant it."

Milly shook her head in denial. "There are no such things, I'm sure of it. If it was something this girl showed you, I'm convinced there is a scientific explanation. It was a trickery or-"

"It wasn't her who first told me about it," Hadrian interrupted her beginning speech tiredly. He had thought it would be quicker.

"Who, then?"

"I had a snake in my back pocket," Hadrian said, changing the subject. Milly narrowed her eyes, not understanding the reason for this abrupt change. "What have you done with it?"

"Threw it away. What were you going to do with the dead thing, anyway?" Her eyes widened in recognition. "Didn't the caretakers mention that Jonathan's death could be caused by venom of some kind? Then how-"

She didn't have the time to complete her sentence because Hadrian abruptly rose from his seat, making the chair he had been sitting on fall to the ground, and rushed outside. Before the girl could do anything about it, he returned. His face was adorned by a triumphant smirk and in his hands he was holding a completely still black and blue snake.

"She told me about magic earlier than Ariana did!" he blurted out, feeling excited now that he had an irrefutable proof that wizards did exist and it wasn't all a figment of his and Ariana's imagination.

"Sorry to disappoint you… But isn't it dead?" Milly pursed her lips, thinking that she had underestimated the influence of that blonde freaky bitch on her friend. At the rate things were going, she wouldn't be surprised if he would need some medical help soon.

She began browsing through the names of underground doctors in her head.

"It told me because I'm- What did you call me?" Hadrian turned to Ariana to ask.

The girl blinked in incomprehension. "A wizard? Ah, you mean a Necromancer."

"Yeah, that." Hadrian continued in his excited tone, He couldn't help it: every time he found a solution, be it a way to finish a conversation like now or a clever idea to annoy someone, he bubbled with glee, something he later always felt embarrassed about. "Apparently, I can resurrect the dead. Cool, right?"

"You really think I will ever believe that?" Milly asked disbelievingly, her eyebrow arched high into her forehead.

"I'm not lying," the boy insisted heatedly. "Look, she is dead." He pointed at Ariana.

Milly scoffed loudly. "I'll prove to you that she is very much alive. And _then_, I _will_ make her dead," she hissed, fire and bloodlust dancing in her eyes in a perfect blend.

She turned around and clasped the collar of Ariana's light-coloured dress, not caring about the latter's frantic attempts at breaking out of her grasp.

"Stop moving, dammit."

Ariana complied and stilled, neither breathing nor shifting in the uncomfortable hold anymore. Her dreamy smile never slipped off her face throughout the entire ordeal, and only the coldness in her eyes showed her disdain and contempt for people without magic.

Milly felt her pulse, and her skeptical sneer began melting away. She leaned her head against Ariana's chest, and something fearful appeared in her expression when she didn't feel the soothing beat of a pulse. Finally, the girl fished out a small mirror out of her pocket, which she carried to check the state of her victims. She brought the small object to Ariana's lips.

Nothing.

Milly recoiled and was hard-pressed to bring her hands together in a silent prayer. She caught Hadrian's victorious gaze, which told her more eloquently than any possible words 'I told you so'. Dazed, she waited before speaking so she was sure her speech would lack any stutter.

"It's true."

Hadrian nodded, and the realization that it wasn't some kind of a joke or gypsy-hypnoses but truth downed on Milly. So did the endless possibilities.

Her sharp mind had already begun to browse through all the possible variants of how to use her friend's newfound heritage.

"I told you so, didn't I?" Ariana asked brightly, brushing herself up after Milly's rough treatment. The latter simply glanced at her briefly with annoyance before shifting her gaze to Hadrian impatiently.

"Details," she ordered in clipped tones. Seeing his smug expression, she added, "Yes, yes, you win. Happy now?"

"Very. As I was saying, I found this snake in my bed. Those two bastards decided to scare me this way-"

"Jonathan is dead, but don't you worry about Bart," Milly said darkly. "I _will _look into his punishment soon. The bastard is going to be castrated. At least, this way I will do a favour to the humanity and save it from him spawning other bastards like himself."

"Oh. Anyway, it told me how I am a wizard and, when you left me to fend off for myself, guided me to her." Hadrian gestured at Ariana, who was sitting at the table now with her hands on her knees and her lips murmuring softly a song of some kind. "The snake, Kamaria, sensed magic coming from the grave and suggested me to resurrect her. The result is before your eyes."

"Thanks, I would have been better off without seeing it," Milly muttered under her breath with a disdainful look on her face. "Is it easy?"

Hadrian hesitated before shrugging and scratching the back of his head in mild embarrassment.

"Umm… I don't know how exactly I did that. I just remembered how angry I felt and… yeah."

"It was a fluke, then," Milly summarized, not impressed in the least.

"Something like that," Hadrian admitted. While he was embarrassed to tell this to Milly, who never seemed to have any problems with learning and encouraged him to try his hardest for perfection, with any other person he would have been purely offended had they thought him incompetent or had they been disappointed in him for his incomprehension.

Milly scoffed and sat down on one of the hard wooden chairs, stretched her legs and arms, and covered her mouth with a hand as she yawned.

"What was it you said about not returning? Despite all the trouble I went through for you…"

The thoughts of possible adoption and having a family, even if he didn't know any members of it yet other than the deranged girl beside him, twisted uncomfortably in Hadrian's mind, and the boy did his best to stiffen the sweet voice in his ears that promised good life, and friends, and warmth if he went with Ariana to search for her brother.

Hadrian couldn't do this to Milly. Somehow, choosing another family over her felt like a betrayal. And the way she had nurtured him, given him food, and clothes, and pleasant human company, the way she had fended off most of his offenders… He couldn't forget it easily because of some long-forgotten but now resurfacing dream.

"There is a school. A school of magic," the boy began, sipping at what was left of his tea. The drink, though it was slightly cooler now, still warmed his insides and made this serious talking thing easier. "They will be sending a letter when I'm eleven, and I will have to choose if I want to control my powers or not."

Hadrian threw a quick glance at his friend, afraid that she would push him to turn down the opportunity that the school presented, but her face showed nothing but careful consideration and concern.

"Hmmm… You still have a year left, though. Why not come back to the orphanage? I know you hate the place, but…" She trailed off uncertainly. They both knew that the main reasons for her concerns were that Milly wasn't of age yet, making her ineligible for adopting a child. Still, there wasn't much time left to wait, and Hadrian had been fully prepared to bear with it.

"This is another issue I would like to talk to you about." He raised his brilliant green eyes, shining with uncertainty and hesitation, to meet hers. "Milly… I think about moving to the Wizarding World."

The girl's posture got completely still and her face frightening in its blankness. Pursing his lips almost hard enough to draw blood, Hadrian rushed to continue. He ignored the interestedly dark spark in Ariana's eyes at the sight of a muggle getting hurt.

"Why?" Was the only thing that passed through Milly's lips. The sound was heartbreaking in Hadrian's ears, and he hurried to correct the possible misconception she could be having.

"It has to do with me," cut in Ariana, making both Hadrian and Milly look her way, the latter with barely veiled anger and the former with relief that he wouldn't be the one doing the talking.

"The Wizarding World is very prejudiced. If they find out Hadrian here is a muggleborn, he is bound to face trouble of certain kind. Bullying and the like. But if my elder brother were to adopt him, at least formally, giving him his last name, Hadrian would be quite respected and would have a better chance at having a good job."

Milly narrowed her eyes as she pondered at this. The anger hadn't quite gone away from her fiery gaze, but she seemed more relaxed now, which relieved Hadrian. It would be best if he could pull this through with Milly not feeling betrayed by him and a possible adoption.

"If he were to refuse the invitation to this school?" she asked sharply, her head cocked to a side and fingers clenched into a fist.

"He will be obliviated, of course," Ariana replied calmly, shrugging without a care in the world. Seeing the confused faces of Hadrian and Milly, she elaborated. "Certain people, Deputy Headmaster, most likely, erase the memories of those families, the members of which deny themselves the chance to study at a magical school. It doesn't concern wizarding ones, of course. Only muggle families."

"I don't know who the hell muggles are, but I catch the drift," Milly drawled, her eyes fixed on Hadrian as she tapped a finger at her cheek. "I don't want any people swarming in your head," she addressed the quiet yet hopeful Hadrian. "So, ditching the letter is out of question. And I won't have you be an uneducated fool either. Sending you there is what we do, then."

"Does this mean you are going to help me?" Ariana clapped her hands excitedly, her baby blue eyes gleaming in the dim electric light.

"Unfortunately." Milly's voice was filled with scorn when she spoke. She stuck out her large finger at Ariana. "But how can you be sure this family of yours will accept him? They most probably believe you dead, after all. I'm sure it will be a nasty shock to them to find out about you, and if you bring along Hadrian as well, I doubt that they are going to be happy about it. How old _are_ you, anyway? And do even know they are alive?"

"I'm fourteen. And I have two brothers. Hopefully, one of them is dead." Something dark clouded Ariana's youthful face before it cleared up again as she spoke of her other sibling. "My younger elder brother was really nice, though, and loved me. If we can find him, I know he will accept Hadrian as long as I'm alive, at least. His name is Aberforth Dumbledore."

"Was he a… wizard, too?" Hadrian asked. At the affirmative nod from Ariana, he clasped his hands together and put them under his chin. "Then, he lives in a different place, right? Kamaria mentioned that wizards live in communities. Doesn't it mean that her contacts will be useless in them?"

Milly tossed up her head in alarm, concerned now. Ariana wasn't bothered in the least, simply stared dreamily off into the space in front of her.

"Now that I think about it… Yes, it can pose a problem. But I think that the fastest way to find him is by asking about him in Diagon Alley. It's a wizarding community in the heart of London, its main shopping centre. I don't know its exact whereabouts because I was too young when I went there first, but Aberforth once told me that it can be accessed through the pub called Leaky Cauldron, which also serves as an inn and is somewhere near St. James's Park."

"Can you give me some money, Milly?" Hadrian asked suddenly, surprising the girl with his request. Usually, the boy was too shy to really ask anything, and Milly had to guess what is it he wanted. "I mean, it's an inn, right? You are busy right now, but Ariana can pass as my elder sister or cousin, and we can stay there while waiting for you. What's more, pubs usually have bartenders, and we could ask some questions regarding this Aberforth person."

"Excellent," Milly said, her eyes filling with relief, and there was even a hint of smile on her face. "I will give you enough money to last for two weeks, and when I will have tied all loose ends at the orphanage and with the gang, I can join you. Brad can handle all the rest while I'm gone. The thing is…" She trailed off, pursing her lips uncertainly. "How are going to find the place? If the imbecile here," she gestured derisively at Ariana, "can't even guess the location."

Hadrian creased his eyebrows in thought, when an idea hit him.

"Kamaria!" he exclaimed, bursting with excitement. "The snake I resurrected. She helped me find Ariana by sensing some magic, I have told you already. And at the orphanage, she also felt some magic coming off from me in vibes. And, as a magical community, I'm certain that it's bound to give off magic, too! I can-"

He stiffened as he remembered that he couldn't control it very well, and most of his resurrections were based on negative emotions like rage, hurt, hatred, agony, and so on. And he doubted he could keep both Kamaria and Ariana alive and kicking without damage to his own organism.

Of course, between a potential adoptive family and his well-being, he would always pick his health.

"What now?" Milly asked in exasperation, annoyance darkening her expression when she saw his hesitation.

"I'm not sure I can raise both the snake and Ariana and be able to function normally," he admitted honestly albeit reluctantly. It wasn't easy admitting his weaknesses and he felt a bit regretful at a perfect plan being shot to hell. "Even now I'm still quite ill, and there is only Ariana here."

And it was true. The nausea of the other evening hadn't returned yet and neither had the dizziness that made him want to howl with agony. It had been almost as bad as Father Andrew's ritual, except that the ache was coming from within and there was no salvation, not even in the face of his miraculous magical powers.

Now Hadrian felt all right, but the ever-present nagging at the back of his mind told him that it wouldn't be so for long.

"How about you rest?" Ariana inquired, snapping out of whatever reverie she had been in. Hadrian blinked at her in incomprehension. How would mere sleep help him? He scoffed skeptically as his opinion of the girl's intelligence went down a notch or two once more.

"Don't look at me like that!" Ariana brought up her hands to her chest defensively, seeing their identical disbelieving stares. "You feel this bad because of the magical exhaustion you are feeling."

"Magical exhaustion?"

"It's a state a wizard or witch reaches when they use too much magic in a short amount of time. Just think about it. You had to resurrect the snake – for the first time, by the way, which is always more power-consuming – you had to resurrect me, fend off those children you told me about… Add in physical exhaustion after walking miles without food or drinks and here you have it!"

"How… smart of you to think of it…" Milly muttered, but raised her head defiantly, ignoring the fact that someone could be better than her in a matter concerning Hadrian.

"You are saying that if I rest, I won't be feeling so sick anymore?" Hadrian asked interestedly and leaned in, his chest almost touching the wooden surface of the table.

Ariana shook her head gently, making blond curls swing with the motion and fall into her eyes.

"You will still feel ill, but not to this extent. I'm not a Necromancer, actually, my magical education is lacking so severely in many aspects that I wouldn't know how to transfigure a quill into a piece of parchment, but casting spells is hard without a wand."

"I will give you the money to buy this wand thing," Milly said sharply, looking at her friend. She turned to Ariana, and her voice wasn't filled with so much loathing as before. Hadrian thought it was because the girl had finally realized that Ariana had been telling the truth about being a witch all along, and wasn't some random loon who convinced him of it.

"Will he learn Necromancy in this school of yours?"

"It's forbidden, actually. Well, not forbidden, but really frowned upon. Better hide it, revealing this fact only to his closest people. Necromancers have their own hidden communities, but they are almost impossible to find."

"A pity. I could have used some learning now," Hadrian said, the corners of his lips down, his voice filled with remorse. How uncool that was. He had an awesome gift and yet couldn't use it to its full powers!

"I think you could put me to sleep for until tomorrow," Ariana proposed graciously with a smile, ignoring Milly's murmur of 'better for ever'.

"Won't you decay?" Hadrian asked curiously.

"I'll make Brad find a fridge of some kind," Milly replied dismissively instead of Ariana. "She's got nothing to worry about."

"Find?"

"I'm sure there are a lot of people here who would _love_ to part with it. Charity to orphans and all that crap."

XXX

The next time he woke up, Hadrian felt much better than before. He had slept the whole day and the whole night, and was ready for the resurrection.

Except that he had no idea how to actually do it, but, well, _details_.

Ariana had been put into a fridge, which Brad had taken from an old woman living somewhere in the area. She was a bit hard on hearing, so, when she was knitting socks by the fireplace, Brad and some Milly's gangmates had no trouble in breaking into the house.

They were all quite burly and remarkably strong, so a few people was enough to carry the fridge the small distance between Hadrian's current residence and the old woman's house.

The boy rather pitied her, but it didn't mean he would return the object; they needed it much more right now.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily and yawning all the while, he walked to the small kitchen sluggishly. He nodded in greeting to Milly and poured himself a glass of cold water to wake up completely before setting a kettle on the stove. He remembered how empty the house had been before Milly ordered her gangmates to put everything in order and bring in some furniture.

They had found it by accident, and now he was glad for it. He wouldn't have known where to go in this situation otherwise. As bad as St. Paul's orphanage had been, with Mrs. Rickety, Ben Jonathan, Jimmy Bart, Father Andrew nearby, and the like, it had still been a roof over his head, shielding him from rain, many deceases rummaging through the streets, and complete hunger.

"Good luck," Milly said simply, patting him on the shoulder in a gruff fashion before retiring to the living-room where some of her gangmates were waiting for her to order them around.

Hadrian nodded, his expression quite pessimistic as he stood in front of the fridge, on top of which Kamaria was lying peacefully. The fridge was placed on the floor in a coffin-like fashion, its door facing the ceiling above it. The room was as dimly-lit as the other day, making the ordinary yellowish fridge look ominous with shadows dancing all over it.

The boy made the trembling in his fingers stop by the sheer force of will as he forced himself to relax completely, closing his eyes and feeling his erratic breathing even out. His features were serene by the time he was finished and found himself once again in the familiar foggy place in his subconsciousness.

He decided to concentrate on Kamaria first. He figured that she was smaller, thus far easier to resurrect because of her body mass.

First, though, he needed to find out what had happened to the rope he remembered tying the snake to the world of the living.

He moved closer to the abyss, from within of which he had seen the rope come, and was once again exhilarated at how he could float around the place instead of simply walking. Flying this way gave him a sense of complete freedom, a feeling Hadrian had never experienced anywhere else.

His eyes widened when he finally found the rope. It wasn't connected to the outer side of this dream world anymore, and its ends were slowly burning in an ice-coloured fire. It gave off no warmth, even when the boy brought his hands closer.

'_Wonder if it will burn me if I touch it.'_

Hadrian knew he had to be more careful when this resurrection thing was concerned, but right now he was too curious to bring himself to care.

He leaned in, and his fingers wavered indecisively in front of the end of the rope before grabbing it with determination. The boy expected to feel pain, maybe, the same agony he had felt when he reached magical exhaustion, as Ariana had put it.

Nothing happened.

The fire was still burning slowly, but it didn't _burn_, per say. The only thing it harmed was the rope.

'_When I experimented on Kamaria, I snapped the rope. What if I bring the ends together instead? I think it will be easier than resurrecting her from scratch.'_

He proceeded to do exactly that. Hadrian used his omnipotence in this world to bring the floating end of the rope to him while grabbing the other one with his hand. The ends had shortened quite a bit by now, and it was strangely, almost painfully, difficult to bring them together.

The boy found he could pull the rope out of the depths of the endless abyss beneath him, though it was hard, too, and he felt exhausted already.

In the end, with just one decisive pull, he connected the ends, and escaped this hazy world of his mind.

XXX

Breathing hard, Hadrian stared at the now moving snake in front of him. Its blue and black length was coiling and uncoiling, and the snake's eyes were blazing with angry fire.

"Kamaria?" Hadrian asked hesitantly, his hand slowly and warily moving to touch the cold body of the reptile.

Kamaria only hissed violently in response. Hadrian couldn't understand its fury; he had resurrected her, for God's sake! Wasn't she happy to be alive again?

"_You killed me!"_ She exclaimed furiously. If this one had a hood, it would sure be flaring right now.

"_I didn't. You were dead long before I've _met_ you. Shouldn't you show me gratefulness for making you live again?"_

"_You dared to experiment on me!"_ Kamaria hissed, enraged. Strangely enough, she didn't make any moves to attack, though she clearly wanted to do so.

"_If you are so angry, why don't you just kill me?"_ Hadrian asked, honestly curious. He didn't understand it. If he had had the means back then, especially at that time before he had met Milly but after his broken friendship with Bart… He shuddered at the thought of what would have become of him.

Kamaria deflated at the question, and resembled more that annoying but harmless snake the boy had seen in the forest and graveyard.

"_You are a Speaker,"_ she answered reluctantly. _"It's very rare and respected. One of your kind, the very first one to speak our language was highly esteemed by us. As a gift, the King of all snakes gifted him by ensuring that none of his descendants will ever be harmed by a snake. All those who can speak our language are his great grandson, which means you are, too."_

Hadrian's eyes widened as he understood the implications. If he was this man's descendant, it was a thread that could connect him to finding his real parents. He made a mental note to himself to ask Kamaria more about that as soon as possible.

"_I need your help with something,"_ Hadrian informed the snake, coming back down to earth. _"Your magic-sensing ability, to be exact. You have to find a place surrounded by a lot of magic. I'm sure it won't be hard."_

Kamaria smirked smugly at him. _"What will I get for that? Are you going to make me die again after my usefulness runs out? Oh, no, a snake like me won't be used like that. Don't even ask."_

"_What do you want, then?"_ Hadrian asked, his brows creased into a frown of irritation. _"I really can't keep you alive all the time…"_

"_An hour a day, at least. You wake me up and entertain me."_

Hadrian felt his eyebrow twitch at the demand, but he knew he could do nothing about it. In the end, he just threw up his hands into the air and muttered through his clenched teeth ' fine, it's a deal' before deciding to work on Ariana.

It didn't surprise him that there was no rope in his mind like with Kamaria. He gathered it was because while with Kamaria he had snapped the rope, with Ariana he had concentrated hard on letting her free of the shackles that bound her to this world.

The methods he had disposed of them were different, so, it was only logical that to renew resurrection he needed something else, too.

In the end, Hadrian went for the same method he had used in the graveyard: remembering hard his misfortunes, gathering up negative emotions, and reminiscing about every bad thing ever done to him as if it were his best memory, not a painful one he tried to forget.

Hadrian realized it worked when he felt Ariana stir under his touch and saw her open her eyes, revealing bright twinkling blue orbs.

He had to notify Milly, and after that they would be ready to depart.

XXX

They arrived in London in one of Milly's gangmate's truck. Hadrian, anticipating his first encounter with the magical world, Ariana, staring off dreamily into space as always, and Kamaria, whining about some thing or other.

The Leaky Cauldron was found quite easily: the only place that rivaled him in the amount of magic was, as Ariana had called it, the Ministry of Magic, where laws were passed, webs of intrigue and political games woven, useful acquaintances made, and most ambitious people worked.

There had also been some single buildings, which gave off magic vibes, but they were few and far in-between. As Ariana had explained it, they were magical enterprises, which concentrated mainly on selling one type of products for wholesale purchase.

Hadrian thought they would be more interesting than that murky shady pub they had to stay in. True, the people looked fascinating and unique, but also kind of dirty and ragged. He bartender was weird: a small hunched thing with balding hair and rotting teeth, he didn't inspire the polite respect expected of a customer.

"A room for two," Ariana asked sweetly, handling the money to the bartender who had introduced himself as 'Tom'. The witch had explained to Hadrian that while wizards had a different currency, they could use muggle money here, because the inn was a crossing between two cultures.

"Here you go, dear." Tom's grin was void of half the teeth, but it certainly didn't lack brightness. The boy found it strange how he didn't question their age or went looking for their parents, like adults at the muggle world would have done.

When Hadrian finally climbed into his bed, he felt tired as hell, even more so after putting Kamaria to sleep. He had decided that if he had to resurrect her every day from now on, at least he preferred it to be quick if painful. He had found that this time the emotions of the other night when Bart and Jonathan broke into his room had gotten weaker, which made resurrecting anyone much more complicated, and he had to remember other offenses, too.

The boy shook his head to get rid of pessimistic thoughts. He had an Alley to explore tomorrow.

But now he would rest. Heavens knew he would need it.


	6. Chapter 6 Diagon Alley

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. How does his relationship with his parents and the people around him progress with the war around them? Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/n:** Thank you for your reviews! **Chapter 7 will be ready by Friday**, I think.

**I hope you will have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it!**

**Chapter 6. Diagon Alley.**

The brightly shining through the closed window sun woke up Hadrian from his dreamless slumber, so sweet after days of strain. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and yawned, looking sluggish with his long raven black hair astray and silvery grey pajamas wrinkled after a long night of sleep.

Hadrian was used to waking up early no matter how ill he felt in the orphanage, so it was easy to force himself into going through the morning rituals without any complaint. After brushing his teeth with a toothbrush given to him by Tom the bartender, he glanced at the fridge holding Ariana's corpse in it.

It had been a pain to bring the fridge to the inn. Milly's gangmates had driven it to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom had to help Hadrian to carry it inside the pub, where muggles couldn't enter.

The boy supposed it was fortunate that Milly had trained her subordinates so well into submission they were too frightened to pry for information despite the interest Hadrian could see clearly in their eyes. Why would a boy like him need a fridge in an _inn_, after all?

The morning was good, anyway, and Hadrian decided to go explore Diagon Alley, the place Ariana had told him quite a lot about in a hushed whisper when they drove to London from Mould-on-the-Wold. He knew that Milly would be offended and maybe even hurt if he were without her presence on an occasion like this, so he chose to at least not betray her further by taking Ariana or Kamaria with him.

This small adventure into the unknown world would be his and his alone.

Hadrian's lips stretched in a rare smile of contentment as he combed his long hair scrupulously before tying them into a ponytail, not a hair out of place.

XXX

"Sir? Can you help me?" Hadrian called out faintly as soon as he saw the bartender, Tom, in his customary place behind the bar stand. The man was smiling a toothless smile and cleaning high glasses with a dirty piece of tissue.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Paradis?" he asked pleasantly, setting another glass upside down to dry. Why a man wouldn't use magic for this kind of thing, Hadrian couldn't comprehend. To be fair, though, there were a lot of things about this Wizarding World he didn't know yet.

He felt himself almost tremble with anticipation.

"Can please show me the entrance to Diagon Alley?" Hadrian inquired, a serious expression on his childish face.

"Ah! A muggleborn, I take it?" Tom exclaimed with delight and continued, not bothering with hearing the reply. "What about your sister? A pleasant young woman, I should say! Will be a heartbreaker when she grows up, I bet."

"She is still sleeping. I didn't want to wake her up."

"Aaah." Tom nodded with understanding and winked at Hadrian. "Want to go explore the Wizarding World by yourself, young man? You have nothing to fear, I will open the Alley for you – you don't have your wand yet, right? No, you are too small to be eleven – and you can discover the Wizarding World to yourself!"

Hadrian watched the man leave the bar stand with confusion. He had never seen someone behave with such exuberance in the orphanage, especially towards his person. He couldn't deny it felt kind of refreshing and made him feel a happiness only being with Milly could rival.

The man was still blabbering some nonsense when they moved to the back of the pub and exited the door. Tom came to a halt in front of a thick stone wall, and Hadrian followed suit.

He, personally, couldn't see anything remarkable neither in terms of architectural value nor in terms of 'magicalness' in the stones in front of his eyes, but guessed there was a catch of some kind.

Tom was murmuring something under his breath as he counted the stones carefully, tapping them with a long stick. Hadrian presumed that piece of wood was the famed wand, which he would have to acquire, too, and preferably today.

"Here you are!" Tom cried out, and the boy snapped out of his reverie, concentrating on what was happening before him with wide eyes.

The bricks were parting, creating a wide archway, which revealed Diagon Alley to his emerald green eyes.

"Beautiful…" Hadrian couldn't stop a murmur from escaping. When he realized what had happened, he ignored the bartender's encouraging smile, opting to go deeper instead.

"Thank you," he said politely, turning around to take a look at Tom. The latter only waved his hand dismissively, used to it.

"Wasn't any problem, lad. Good day, and when your sister wakes up, I'll tell her not to go looking for you." With one last wink and a toothless grin, Tom went back into the building and returned to cleaning the glasses and serving customers.

'_She won't wake today_,' Hadrian wished to say, but held his tongue. Ariana had told him it would bring only trouble to him if the news of his talent were to be brought to light.

Instead of committing such foolishness, Hadrian focused his attention on the magical world around him.

It wasn't beautiful, not in the conventional sense.

The Alley was too narrow to hold this many people all at once, which made it overcrowded and impassable in some places because of the river of human – and not only- bodies. The buildings were poorly built and tilting to sides; Hadrian was certain, in fact, that only magic kept everything from falling down completely. The nauseating stench near the place called an 'owlery' was simply unbearable.

And people themselves were no better than the weirdos inside of the Leaky Cauldron: shady, haggard, fussy, and without any sense of style, wearing clothes of rainbow colours yet keeping them dirty and disorderly.

But despite all those flaws… Something in the whole picture of the place was so magical, so engaging and enchanting that he couldn't help but enjoy the atmosphere of wonder and miracles.

Ariana had told him that when he enters the alley, he should first drop by Gringotts, where small creatures called goblins would change his money from one currency into another. She had also explained in detail everything about galleons, knuts, and sickles, and how not to mix them up.

It would need some getting used to, but Hadrian was fully determined to discard his muggle heritage and embrace his wizarding side, learning new customs and traditions as well as small things like some of their habits and word expressions.

The only thing he was _never_ going to adopt was their fashion sense. Yuck.

"Miss! Can you please tell me the way to Gringotts?" Hadrian asked a plump witch leaving the Apothecary. She looked young, in her twenties, maybe, and had hair of fiery red colour. He deemed her to be safe enough to address.

She blinked at him, not understanding at first, before realization downed in her warm brown eyes. Her lips stretched in a friendly smile, not unlike Tom's some minutes ago.

"First time in Diagon Alley, deary?" she asked, leaning over him a bit to tousle his black hair, making some strands fall out of his neat ponytail. It took Hadrian all his willpower to not outright glare at the woman. Really, who did she think herself to be, undoing all his hard work? It had taken him half an hour to comb them, rendering his usually messy hair orderly.

"Yes," he half-snapped, trying to politely shake her hand off his head. "So?"

The redhead looked surprised at the transition from a polite and seemingly innocent young boy to snappish and rather rude, but shook it off.

"Just go ahead without turning. The huge white building you will see is Gringotts. If you don't know something, ask goblins there. Merlin knows they are not friendly folk, but know their job."

"Thank you, miss." Hadrian nodded politely albeit with offended fire burning in his eyes. The woman beamed and shrugged modestly, blushing.

"Don't think about it, honey. I'm always happy to help little children like you." With those words they parted ways, and Hadrian was left to stare at the shops he was passing by.

He saw a swarm of children clinging like flies to a shop window, which gave a clear view on a single broomstick. They were all shouting excitedly, their voices mixed into a loud hubbub, making it impossible to make out the words of the shop assistant advertising it. Though it didn't seem like the product needed advertising anyway.

Hadrian was confused at first as to why they were so interested in cleaning and thought they would make dream charges for Mrs. Rickety and the caretakers. Then he understood that this was probably one of the brooms old evil hags were known to fly in fairy tales.

Scoffing, he sauntered forward. He had no intention of falling off a broom and breaking his nose.

The book shop, "Flourish and Blotts", on the contrary, was void of customers, only some nerdy-looking bookworms were glued to the tomes in their hands. One of them was constantly mumbling to himself something about 'the triangle, what does the triangle stands for?' his clothes in disarray and long white hair a terrible mess.

Hadrian didn't know what was so intriguing in a book from children's section and thus decided to stay away from the loon when he comes there next time.

It was truly a pity that wizards didn't look like they gave a damn about priceless storehouses of knowledge that book represented. The boy almost pitied them for it.

Finally, he could see the humongous white building of the wizarding bank. It was like a beacon of blinding white in the midst of the tastelessness and manginess of the alley, striking onlookers with the calming effect it had on them.

Hadrian climbed up the marble steps galled by centuries of heavy use and had to stifle an outcry at the sight of this goblin creature.

It was small, smaller than him even, and wrinkly, with rows of sharp teeth glinting in the sun. It was dressed in tidy red and gold uniform, looking like a porter in those high up muggle hotels, but his expression lacked their artificial courtesy and deference. Hadrian doubted the creature could smile kindly even if it wanted to.

He nodded to the goblin, not noticing its astounded widening of eyes, and walked into the bank. He had to admit that being in that vast space of luxury was uncomfortable for him. While the clothing provided by Milly was up to standards in the muggle world, he could see quite a few families here whose clothing was obviously tailored and facial expressions stuck up.

While goblins worked swiftly and efficiently, Hadrian still had to wait. In the long line he was standing in while waiting for his turn he had a clear view on a family of three – a husband, wife, and their son about his age – coming up to a goblin in the VIP part if the bank.

They held themselves tall, their postures proud and graceful, and the entire picture they made screamed 'wealthy'. They were beautiful, too. Hadrian observed as the man asked the boy something, and the latter tipped back his head, saying something in reply. A second later, the goblin serving them handed them a box with gems, from which the boy had choose.

As much as Hadrian wanted to stay and watch the proceedings (he wasn't sure why, but they drew him in, especially the stunning blond boy with sharp aristocratic features did), it was his turn now, and the goblin's impatient scowl didn't leave much room for a delay.

"So?" the creature snarled, its eyes blazing with derogatory flame. The service in the only wizarding back in Britain clearly left a lot of room for improvement.

According to Ariana, though, it was a universal problem because all wizards used the services of different brunches of Gringotts, where few humans worked and business was mainly conducted by goblins. Only a few countries were exceptions to this rule.

"I would like to exchange money from muggle currency into the wizarding one."

The goblin sneered and roughly grabbed the banknotes handed to him, not caring if its clawed hands grazed the skin of Hadrian's tender wrist, almost slashing through the blue ribbons of veins. It shuffled in the cabinet under the counter and fished out a pouch, into which it began to pour handfuls of sparkling gold, silver, and copper.

When the task was finished, the goblin pushed the pouch into Hadrian's waiting hands, the scowl on the creature's face never fading away. The goblin opened its mouth to shout 'next' with its grating rough voice when Hadrian stopped him with a question.

"Where can I buy some stuff like robes, a wand, and whatever supplies I'll need?" Hadrian didn't bother to be polite with a person who didn't appreciate it, so he skipped the pleasantries and went straight to business instead. The annoyed glare of the goblin was his reward.

"The best wandmaker of ready-made wands here is Ollivander. If you need a good custom wand, visit Sykes & co. It's a renowned team of wandmakers, but judging by this," the goblin gestured at the money in Hadrian's protective hold, "you won't be able to afford their services."

"What about clothes? What kind of clothing do I need to have?" Hadrian asked. He didn't really like robes, they seemed too much like dresses, which he thought would only accentuate his girly features and petite stature, but he would need to get used to them. Besides, that rich family of blonds showed him that some wizards did have good taste, what's with their sophisticated blue and white robes of rich cut.

"Madame Malkin's is a choice for Hogwarts students and muggles, she'll tell you everything there is to know about the matter. Lusher's makes the best underwear and nightwear. Go to Saint-Valeri's Abode if you fancy richly sewn dress robes. Again, I doubt you can afford it. Wilkes Winter Wear offer the best winter clothing, so, if you are planning on staying in the Wizarding World for long, I advise you to buy a coat with their mighty warming charms. But why am I saying this? You will go to Malkin's like everyone else."

"Thank you for the information," Hadrian said politely, ignoring the last part. Despite the sneering, the goblin had been helpful. "Can I ask you another question though?"

"If you dare to." The creature's wild grin was menacing with teeth sticking out. Hadrian heard someone behind his back make a strangled gasp at the sight of it.

"Why do you say everyone goes to Madame Malkin's?" Hadrian asked honest curiosity in his mind. If the goblin did say there were some better choices, why would people not go there?

The grin faded and the goblin put his mask of constant sneer back on his face.

"As if you humans would believe the word of goblins. And even if you did, no one ever asks."

Hadrian nodded in understanding and bid the creature goodbye. Just before he walked out of the bank, he asked, "Wait, what is your name?"

The goblin was surprised as well as the other customers. Actually, some of them even whispered to each other, throwing him 'stealthy' glances of wariness and bewilderedness.

"Griphook."

"Pleased to make you acquaintance." Without a final glance, the boy left the bank contentedly, thinking about how he would spend the money currently lying in his pocket.

XXX

Hadrian decided to first go to Ollivander's.

No words could relay his crashing disappointment when he saw the store.

It was shabby and small and run-down, to the point where Hadrian wondered if its owner had a money problem of some sort. The sign was only half-there, and some letters had dimmed to the point of full erasure, not seen to the naked eye. The shop window proudly showed off a single wand in a dusty narrow box.

Hadrian raised his eyebrow skeptically. He hadn't wanted to use his money to get a custom wand from this Sykes & co, but he might as well do it. Heavens knew neither Ariana nor Kamaria needed to eat, and Hadrian was too used to feeling hunger to give a damn about it anymore. Any deprivation of meal was no more than a slight inconvenience for him.

He entered the shop cautiously, mindful of the creaking door and wood beneath his boots. His gaze met long shelves filled with the same narrow boxes he had seen on display. The only other furniture was a fragile chair that would snap if the weight of the person seating on it was more than a couple of pounds.

"Going to school this year, young man?" Came an eerie voice from behind him, and Hadrian was hard-pressed not to jump, scared out of his wits by the abrupt appearance.

The boy spun around, his hand fingering the pocket knife in his black shorts. His elastic band slipped off his ponytail, making the midnight black hair frame his thin face. He looked eerie in the darkness of the shop, with his skin so ghostly white in comparison to his hair and black clothes, and his emerald eyes were the only thing that gave colour to the black and white picture.

"Who are you?" Hadrian asked, his voice freezing. Somehow, he knew there was something off with the man. Just a hunch, but Hadrian had learned not to contradict his intuition when it decided to wake and warn him against something, be it a human or a reckless deed.

"Don't worry, I'm the shop owner," the man said kindly, his strange moon-like eyes twinkling madly. Hadrian indeed relaxed, but ever so slightly.

"You are here for your wand, I presume?"

'_What else would I be here for, idiot?'_

"Yes, of course you will be," the man said to himself quietly. "But your time hasn't come yet, no, not yet."

At these words Hadrian raised his eyes sharply to meet Ollivander's. "What do you mean, 'hasn't come? Are you going to deny me the wand?"

Ollivander threw his hands up in the air in a helpless gesture. "Had you come a year later, I would have surely found the right wand for you. Now, on the other hand, I'm not sure it is ready. If it is not, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit more. Not such a big deal for a boy as young as you, heh?" The man smiled at him suggestively. "You, young ones have so much energy…"

'_A _wand _isn't ready? What is this loon talking about?'_

"Is one year that much of a deal?" Hadrian asked hesitantly, fearing to receive a positive response. God, he had been so excited to finally cast magic properly, not like those spontaneous outbursts Ariana had called 'accidental magic'.

Ollivander gave him an odd knowing look, as if he was aware of the aspects of Hadrian's life the boy himself knew nothing about.

"Usually, it doesn't matter. But _you _are special."

"Special? In what way?" Hadrian asked, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. Well, yes, he was a wizard, he knew that already. Did the creep mean something else? What, then? Hadrian had never thought himself to be any more special than his magical powers allowed him.

Ollivander didn't answer him, staring at Hadrian and seeing through him. The blank gaze reminded the boy creepily of Ariana and the dreaminess in her whole image. Didn't she say that all purebloods were interrelated and incestuous relationships were commonness among wizards? If so, then Hadrian wouldn't be surprised if the Dumbledores and the Ollivanders were related.

"You said there is a chance that I _can_ find my wand, right?"

"It _is _possible. But we have to remember, young man, that a wand chooses a wizard, not vice versa. In cases as difficult as yours we have to completely rely on its decision. I can't promise you anything. We can just hope that it is agreeable enough today."

With these worlds the white-haired man spun around and went into the back of the store, the mutterings of different properties of woods and animal parts accompanying him all the way. Any other time Hadrian would have found it entertaining to listen to, but right at that moment his mind was occupied by thoughts of what would happen to him if the wand were to be stubborn and reject him.

The fear, surprisingly, was enough to rise trembling out of him.

Ollivander came back minutes later, holding a stack of boxes in his wrinkled arms. He positively beamed at the boy, setting the objects on the shaky chair, careful as to not press too hard on it.

"Here you go. These, I think, are the likeliest to choose you, considering your core."

Hadrian perked up at that. He remembered Ariana telling him about cores and differences between Light and Dark types of magic. Of course, he also remembered her telling him that necromancers only wielded Dark magic, because the talent was incompatible with the Light, but it never hurt to ask a qualified adult specialist.

"What kind of magical core do I have?"

"Don't you know this already?" Ollivander asked, his lips stretched mysteriously and glasses reflecting the light coming from the window to the point where Hadrian couldn't see his eyes at all. "Dark, of course. I have to say that you are a very talented young man of Dark core, and, if I'm not mistaken – and there was never a time I have been mistaken in something – a glorious future awaits you."

Ollivander leaned in and their eyes met, the man's holding something deeper than idle curiosity in how the future of one of his customers turns out. Hadrian felt his shoulders stiffen and leaned away a bit, hoping it wasn't too noticeable. The man's soft chuckle told him the attempt wasn't successful.

"Let's get started, then." Ollivander straightened and pointed at the pile of boxes, some of them on the chair while others lying on the ground, seemingly in disorder, but Hadrian had seen the great care Ollivander treted them with to believe that.

The boy neared the boxes and grabbed one of them, opening it uncertainly. He pulled the long piece of wood out of its case, and looked at Ollivander not knowing what to do.

"Go on, give it a wave," the man encouraged cheerfully, waving his own hand for greater effect.

Hadrian did as told and was completely unprepared when the vase beside on the counter shattered, pieces falling to the floor. Ollivander swiped his own wand, and it immediately repaired itself, not a shard out of place.

"Not it, then."

'_Obviously.'_

Hadrian shrugged and was in the process of pulling out another wand to try when Ollivander stopped him and rummaged through the boxes in search of something specific.

"Here, blackthorn, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. A wand very good for defense."

A wave and countless pieces of parchment fell to the floor from the cabinet behind the counter.

"Wrong again. Try ivory, thirteen inches and a half, veela hair. A foreign wand brought to me by d'Aguillon. You should have seen Gregorovitch's face when I boasted it to him!" Hadrian didn't know either of the people mentioned, but gave it a try nonetheless.

Fire spat out of the wood, devouring the boxes made of carton as well as the fallen manuscripts and documents.

"Well, it definitely does suit the rage of an offended veela," Ollivander mumbled to himself, shaking his head at the mess on the floor. Hadrian feared that by the time he left, the store would be in shambles. He only hoped he wouldn't be forced to pay for the damage. It wasn't his fault the wands were so volatile!

The pile of the wands he had used grew and grew until all the boxes travelled from the chair to the floor. Even then Ollivander continued bringing forth new and new wands, to let Hadrian try and see him fail spectacularly every time. Strangely enough, despite the broken furniture and destroyed documents and pieces of parchment and what not, Ollivander's anticipation and glee only grew.

Finally, the man returned from the back door with a single wand in his hand. He handed it to Hadrian with reverence, something indescribable running through his pale blue eyes.

"Now I see," he whispered, the sound thunderous in the stillness of the room. "I am certain that this is the wand for you, Mr… Paradis."

Hadrian's nimble fingers embraced the delicate wood, and the boy waved his hand at the broken again vase, just like he had seen Ollivander do it an hour ago. The porcelain shards were brought together by an invisible force, glued in now without any traces of ever being broken.

Hadrian felt himself gape slightly at the sight before him. It was the first time his magic did something creative instead of destructive he had seen it do.

To his side, he heard exhilarated clapping and turned to look at Ollivander, who looked as if he had been the one to finally find his wand after an hour of failed attempts and desperation.

"Congratulations, Mr. Paradis!" he cried out in elation, eyes bright and smile wide up to his ears. "It seems like you have found your wand, and it is ready to accept you earlier than planned. Such luck, indeed!"

Hadrian didn't hear the man; he was too busy staring at the piece of wood in his hands and feel warmth spreading throughout his body in a tingling sensation. The feeling was akin to coming back home after long while away, causing happiness settle deep into his chest. He thought the feeling would never go away as long as he had the opportunity to hold this precious wand in his hands, liking the way it linked his magical core and himself together.

"Holly wood and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple," Ollivander said, placing his hands on Hadrian's shoulders, suddenly standing way too close for the boy to like, but succeeding in shaking him out of his reverie. "A very unusual combination, Mr. Paradis. And it only strengthens my belief that you will be a fine wizard one day. A very fine wizard, indeed."

Ollivander's glasses gleamed mysteriously and his words were but a hushed whisper, as if the man was deep inside a particularly pleasant and enjoyable memory or, perhaps, a vision of future. Hadrian shivered. Not liking the twinkle, not liking the closeness and the lack of space between their bodies, not liking the dead weight those wrinkled hands felt like on his shoulders.

"Why do you assume so?" Hadrian forced himself to ask despite the dryness in his mouth and incredible fear he felt to hear the answer. He had to know the reason he was being treated like this, he knew it. He had to be brave and face the reason.

"You see, your wand is not only unusual as a combination. The phoenix, whose feather is in this wand, gave me actually _two_ of them, which is incredibly rare for a bird to do. Another feather was made into another wand, combined with yew wood. And there is a person out there, whose wand this is."

"So what's the deal with it?" Hadrian asked, perplexed.

Ollivander shook his head at the boy's ignorance and clenched Hadrian's shoulder tighter, almost hurting the younger wizard with his steely grip.

"It is said that people who have brother wands are linked to each other in a way others can only dream of. Their lifestyles, magical cores, even characters influence one another. It cannot be intercepted because the change occurs so gradually that both people might never catch on."

"I don't want to be changed!" Hadrian exclaimed, shaking off the man's invading hands and taking a steps back, not caring about whether he seemed insulting or not.

"It won't be against your will, I assure you. And these changes are so very small they can't be seen if one doesn't look too deeply into it, I've told you. Fate itself chooses the owners of brother wands in such a way that they complement, not hinder one another."

"That means," Hadrian began uncertainly, his eyebrows creased in a deep frown as he contemplated the predicament he was in, "if I like healing, the person whose wand is the brother wand of mine likes destroying and killing? Is this what you meant?"

Ollivander looked troubled for a moment before he shrugged carelessly. "More or less. But you have to remember that you are as much different as you are alike. Your cores are the same."

"Oh!" Realization hit Hadrian, and he looked up at the older wizard, expression glowing with understanding. "It's like with goals. The end objective is the same while the means used are different."

Ollivander nodded continuously, agreeing with Hadrian and positively beaming. "I'm glad you catch the drift, Mr. Paradis. Not many wizards, especially children your age, do."

"Who was it?" Hadrian asked suddenly. "The person who owns the brother wand of mine? Do I know him?" Even before he asked, Hadrian had known the answer. He didn't know many people in the Wizarding World. Hardly any, actually. The chance of the boy stumbling across a wizard somewhere near the orphanage was close to none.

"I doubt you know him," Ollivander stood behind the counter, scribbling a cheque for Hadrian's wand. "He is somewhere around the world now, travelling to gain more knowledge of magic. I must say he is an exceptional person who has achieved much, even if prefers to stay in shadows."

'_That sounds actually cool. If I have to be chained to someone, at least I want this person to be decent in terms of knowledge and power. Don't want to acquire the same characteristics as some loser.' _

And that mysterious person was modest, too, which was a huge plus. Seeing Bart and Jonathan had made him abhor people who talked too much about themselves and their dubious achievements. This man must be some kind of a quiet bookworm, craving knowledge but not getting into any trouble.

How strange that after hearing about the man a few minutes ago for the first time, Hadrian's thoughts were filled with speculations about him. How would he look like? Old or young? And what about his character? Maybe, he would be kind of socially awkward like Hadrian as well as antisocial? Or, on the contrary, loud and rambunctious, filling every place he went in with laughter and joy?

The possibilities were endless, and Hadrian knew he shouldn't expect anything because he doubted they would ever meet, but he couldn't stop himself. His mind, usually so docile when he wanted it to shut up, was reeling, almost as if a dam of some kind was broken.

Hadrian wondered if there had always been this unreasonable longing, only he had been too oblivious to detect it.

"What is the name of this person?" He heard himself ask, but the lips mouthing the words felt alien, apart from his brain, which was fixed on a person who could have possibly been like him, possibly had even gone through the same experiences of deprivation, bitter tears, and desperation.

"I'm afraid I cannot disclose my customers and the wands that choose them except for family members. I can assure you though, Mr. Paradis, you will immediately realize. The feeling will be akin to love. Have you ever been in love with someone, Mr. Paradis?"

"No." Though the tips of his ears burned a bit, Hadrian wasn't really ashamed of saying this at his age. He was only ten, for God's sake! He wasn't obliged to date someone yet, and as much as he liked Milly, the mere thought of kissing her and stuff raised an urge to vomit in him. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Ollivander. I have to go now. Here's the money."

"Of course, Mr. Paradis. " Ollivander accepted the money, putting them into a cassette, and bid the boy goodbye.

Only when the young wizard left the store and was completely out of sight, had Garrick Ollivander allowed his smile to slip from his face, expression serious as he spoke.

"I'm sure we will meet again, Time Traveller."

XXX

"Here again, Mr. Paradis?" asked a young man of twenty two jovially. His height along with thinness bordering on anorexia made him completely unlike what a café owner was supposed to be.

Hadrian looked up at the brunet, holding the menu in his hands, and felt himself smile, albeit unnoticeably. He was at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, a place he had come to know intimately well during the last two weeks. He had struck a tentative friendship with Florean Fortescue himself, an engaging conversationalist and wonderful historian.

"Hey. The weather was too good to stay all cooped up there," Hadrian explained with a shrug. Florean set a portion of chocolate ice-cream in front of him, already knowing Hadrian's tastes well enough to make the right thing. The better thing was he never charged his friends, and Hadrian could be considered as such now.

The boy's stomach grumbled loudly at the sight of the food, which attracted customers from the nearest tables, some of whom giggled lightly. Blush coloured Hadrian's pale cheeks, but he didn't let the accident embarrass him. He simply placed a spoonful of ice-cream in his mouth and felt the delicious treat melt in his mouth. Hadrian closed his eyes in pure bliss.

He didn't want to say that those two weeks had considerably softened him or made his hatred of the orphanage and its inhabitants go away, but he had become more relaxed, behaving a tad more freely wound other people.

Even Kamaria had noticed he had become more fun. Of course, the boy succeeded in shaking her out of this delusion, but that was beside the point.

His thoughts slowly drifted to the book lying on the table and the stack of parchments accompanying it.

Since he was determined to be a wizard in all aspects of his life, it was necessary to write like a wizard, too. And, with mild surprise, he had found that the wizarding folk were quite behind their muggle counterparts in terms of science and technology, not to mention trivialities like writing with a quill on parchment instead of using a pen and paper.

So far Hadrian wasn't very successful in writing without splotches of ink covering the entire sheets of parchment, but his resolution was strong enough to keep pushing him towards perfection. Thus, he found that his calligraphy skills were improving with each passing day and his writing resembled this of medieval nobles and scribes.

The book had been taken from the library he had found by accident in the far end of Diagon Alley. The place was hollow, with very few people sitting quietly at the oak desks; one of each was that white-haired mumbling freak Hadrian had seen on his first day of the exploration of the alley. As it turned out, the man frequented all the places connected with books, and Hadrian could often see him with this _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ book, talking to himself and gesticulating wildly.

Once again, disappointment tore at Hadrian when he saw the dismissive way wizards treated knowledge. Then again, he had found that lower class people or muggleborns had no special interest in learning and researching while wealthy folk, like the family he had seen in Gringotts and later in the robes shop, probably had their own libraries in their huge manor.

His mind went back to the day he had first came face to face with the issues of blood purity tearing the Wizarding World in halves.

_Flashback:_

_The library – which was simply called Wizarding London Library- was a place not unlike Ollivander's – quite small and shabby but with numerous shelves lining the walls. According to the librarian Mr. Pince, the husband of the Hogwarts librarian, Hadrian shouldn't let the small size of the library mislead him – thank to Space-Enhancing Charms, the amount of books was indeed great._

_Hadrian took a book on Wizarding etiquette from one of the shelves in the section of wizarding tradition and sat at one of the empty desks near the librarian. He had found he could always rely on the man to explain in detail what this or that word meant, which made studying this new fascinating culture much easier._

_His attention was snapped to three children about his age entering the door. They all were dressed impeccable, especially the blond boy and straw-haired girl, who seemed to relish in their stunning appearance. With them was another boy, this one with dark brown, almost black hair, curly at the ends. His black eyes stared at the library in disgust._

_Actually, they were all sneering at the poor condition of the furniture and most of the books, and Hadrian couldn't fault them for it._

_Mr. Pince had gone away to grab something to eat at the teahouse next door, not fearing to leave the books because of something called Anti-Thieving Wards. This left Hadrian and a couple of other visitors alone in the library. The boy watched with interest the proceedings._

"_Tell me, Meliflua," the girl hissed, leaning in to whisper in the blond's ear. "Why are we in this wretched place?"_

_Annoyed, the boy sent a glare in her direction while his companion went deeper into the library, observing the place with faintly veiled scorn._

"_I am no happier to be here than you are, Avery," he replied in the same fashion, blue eyes glowing."But this Pince guy is the husband of Hogwarts librarian and if he puts in a good word for us, Slughorn will acquire a pass to the Restricted Section for all Slytherins."_

"_Slytherin? What makes you think you'll get there, Meliflua? With your vanity and cowardice, I'd say you are the prime example of a Hufflepuff," the second boy told him mockingly, something mischievous dancing in his dark eyes as he played with a random book in his hands. The Meliflua boy made a face in reply._

"_Rosier. Please, do shut your loud mouth to never open it again."_

"_I can't believe I'm agreeing with Meliflua. You really talk too much, Rosier. I heard your father was unhappy with it, too."_

_The one called Rosier winced, hiding the palms of his hands in the pockets of his intricate blood red robes. Hadrian could glimpse odd scars running through them, like those from caning._

'So, even scions of wealthy families can't escape punishment.'

"_He expressed his happiness quite memorably," Rosier muttered, his features pained at the reminder. "Anyway, about relatives. You are both going to this Malfoy party this weekend, right?"_

_Both Avery's and Meliflua's faces lit up with childish excitement, ridding them of this nastiness and haughtiness Hadrian disliked and making them much prettier._

"_Yeah." The girl nodded with delight, her voice dreamy and straw hair tied into two curly ponytails shaking with the motion. "I heard dear Lucius is getting the Choosing of the Heir Ring Ceremony. Do you know what gem is he going to choose?"_

_Was it strange that the question of gems brought to Hadrian's mind the memory of Gringotts and the stunning long-haired boy, whose aristocratic sharp features had imprinted in Hadrian's mind?_

"_Who knows." Rosier shrugged. "I bet it's something like magical diamonds. The Malfoys have always been fond of them."_

"_True. My grandfather still has one in the Meliflua vault. It looks stunning on him. He said he can let me wear it for the ball." The blond smirked smugly at the envy coming from that Avery girl. Hadrian personally didn't see the deal with it. So, the ring was lovely. Was there really anything to be envious about?_

'I guess I'm just far from all those rich people,'_ Hadrian decided, looking at the trio standing in the middle of the library, not at all bothered by the fact that their loud chatter broke all the rules of keeping silence._

"_Well, you haven't seen my dress." The girl tipped back her head arrogantly, looking at Meliflua through lowered eyelashes. "The best thing ever made by Italian designers, I assure you."_

"_Mordred, let's skip this blabber," Rosier moaned throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation at their antics. Hadrian was inclined to agree with him. "You two are constantly giving me a headache with these things. What does it matter what you wear at the ball?"_

"_Rosier," Meliflua began, his expression pitying as if he were talking to someone with mental disabilities. "It will be a fantastic social gathering with hundreds of important witches and wizards invited. If there is something to boast about, why not do it?"_

"_The Rosiers have no need for this worthless hustle. Our achievements in duels speak for ourselves." Rosier was smug before smirking mischievously. "Besides, are you trying to impress Lucius despite being engaged to Avery, Meliflua? Tut, tut, how naughty of you."_

_Hadrian blinked a few times and decided to check his hearing next time he went to the doct- _healer_. He was obviously hearing something wrong. There was no way children could be engaged at this age already._

_Both Avery and Meliflua flushed a deep red, glancing at each other before turning away almost immediately in embarrassment._

"_Don't remind me!" Avery moaned, bringing her dainty hand to cover her eyes. "And he has a crush on Black anyway."_

"_I do not!"_

"_So, it was me who blathered on and on about the guy when we were at the tea party yesterday?"_

"_Which Black is it?" Rosier leaned in in interest and put a finger to his mouth. "The younger one, I hope?"_

"_Nope. That's the thing. He's got a crush on _Sirius _Black."_

_Rosier's expression was horrified while Meliflua tried to hit the girl lightly, deep red covering the entirety of his face. Hadrian, meanwhile, contemplated how someone could be so cruel as to call their baby girl a male name._

"_The black sheep," Rosier drawled disdainfully, his posture the epitome of rightful offendedness. _

"_He _is _quite pretty, but that's beside the point. Worse than this could only be a mudblood." Avery girl paused to look around the not so quiet library and found Hadrian staring at them before ducking his head to show he wasn't listening in. "Like this one there."_

_Both boys observed Hadrian, his ordinary robes of black colour, the slightly hunched stance, ghostly pale skin, as if it had never seen the sun. His face was beautiful and features were not unlike a pureblood's, though._

"_Are you sure it's a mudblood? Seems like an heir of those fallen pureblood families, who have got not a penny left and whose only point of merit is their ancestry."_

"_Let's ask him, then," Rosier said, marching to the quiet Hadrian, who was trying to shrink until he completely disappeared. _

_The trio pulled to a stop behind him, forming half a circle. The boy had to twist on his chair to see them clearly._

"_Are you a mudblood?" the brown-haired boy asked without any formalities._

_Now, Hadrian had heard about the prejudice all muggleborns and muggles were forced to endure from purebloods, especially the Dark ones. He could tell the truth that he was an orphan but was sure that this would only make them despise him even more. And, anyway, it wasn't like he himself knew his ancestry. He could be a long lost heir of an old noble House. _

_But he wasn't going to reveal he was a muggleborn even under the threats of torture. Thansk, he had read enough about how Esphilanius Malfoy used an old rite to dismember a muggleborn for trespassing after the man himself had invited him in his abode. It was an underhanded trick, but the government couldn't do anything about it: a pureblood had full right to punish someone if this person were to step into his territory uninvited._

_It was the fault of the muggleborn that he had trusted Malfoy and never checked if the invitation was genuine or false. _

_Hadrian had read about countless examples of Slytherin pureblood slyness and underhandedness, so his answer to Rosier's question would be-_

"_A halfblood."_

_The three standing over him scoffed, but their scorn wasn't as strong as it would be had he told the truth about the matter._

"_Lowly filth," Avery muttered in mild disgust, her pouty pink lips twisted into a cold sneer._

"_Oi, come off it, Avery," Rosier said and clapped Hadrian on his shoulder, ignoring the way the black-haired boy looked as if the invading limb was a snake prepared to pounce at him. "He's not a mudblood, at least. You have to be ready that in Hogwarts mudblood will be common. Our headmaster is a _muggle-lover_, after all."_

_His grimace of derision unmistakably showed how he felt about it._

"_What's going on here?" And Mr. Pince was back, his expression lost and confused as he walked to the nearest desk to settle a shopping back filled with wizarding cookies like chocolate frogs and pumpkin fudge and the like._

_Avery slipped on a false sweet smile, which contrasted strikingly with the way she had looked minutes ago while speaking about 'mudbloods'. Hadrian understood that they were finished with him and returned his attention to the book. It was much more interesting than the issues between purebloods and muggleborns anyway._

_/Flashback ends._

Hadrian's mind drifted back to the issue quite frequently, mostly because this was one thing he was confused about and not quite knowing what to do.

When he had first heard about the hatred wizards bore regarding muggles, Hadrian immediately agreed with those ideals. He remembered the pain he had gone through, the misunderstandings and prejudices, the way no one ever stood up for him other than Milly when Bart and Jonathan bullied him.

The mental scars of the 'cleansing ritual' he had had to endure because of Father Andrew were still fresh in his mind, and he doubted they would ever completely evaporate.

And then he thought of Milly.

Their friendship, warmth, caring, affection, and support were all enough to outweight the feelings of anger and offense Hadrian linked to muggles.

A drop of ink fell from the tip of his quill, landing on the parchment and spectacularly undoing all his efforts. Hadrian scowled. His annoyance was almost enough to make him tear at his hair in exasperation. He had never managed once to copy a paragraph without botching it up in the end.

Aggravated, he put away the quill and the bottle of ink for now and opted to order another portion of ice-cream, strawberry one this time. Having the owner of the parlor as his friend was beneficial, he supposed.

And Florean Fortescue wasn't the only one. Hadrian had managed to strike a good relationship with the owner of Artwork Quills in Vertic Alley, who also made him large discounts.

Hadrian had found that Diagon Alley wasn't the only street in this magical community. As that goblin in Gringotts had said, it was in the forefront and sold the most basic goods, so it was adequate enough for many people and they never searched more.

Hadrian, however, deemed it necessary to wholly explore the place that would become his home for the next years and, hopefully, for the rest of his life.

The first alley he had found was Knockturn Alley, a freaky place with wierdos even odder than those in Diagon. Shops there sold things like poisoned objects such as candles, soaps, perfumes, pillows as well as poisons themselves. Actually, Hadrian had even seen a store, the shop windows of which were poisoned, which a small piece of paper, stuck to one of them, told the customers.

The shopkeeper, beaming with pride, shared whisperedly with Hadrian that this was better than Anti-Theft Wards. While the wards didn't reveal who the person stealing goods was, with the poison thief's corpse would be there when Aurors arrive.

Hadrian noticed that Knockturn Alley was the only place he had seen Aurors striding through. They were somewhat of an equivalent to muggle police officers. The only difference was that they didn't patrol the streets and were sent straight to the scenes of crime instead.

With goods like living hands, shrunken heads, puppy dog eyes (someone obviously took the expression 'to have puppy eyes' a tad too literally), giant spiders, and cursed artifacts, it didn't come as a surprise that Aurors would find the alley a fruitful place to rummage through.

Hadrian didn't like the place much. He preferred Vertical Alley much more – the place filled with supplies for painting, writing, drawing, and various works of art. There were wizards sitting in the street who offered to paint magical portraits to passers-by. The architecture was enchanting, too, rather a lot like Gringotts, which made Hadrian think that maybe goblins had had a hand in building the alley.

The painters, dressed in messy motley garbs, the aristocratically looking visitors, who observed the artworks with the eyes of professional, the sweet smell of flowers descending from balconies in cascades of green and rose and red and violet – they all resembled what Hadrian thought the Florence or Rome of Medieval times would look like. It was a place worth coming to for inspiration and to get the feel of what's beautiful in the world.

Lite Alley was somewhat like that, too. But it was more spacious and without flowers, made of white bricks instead of stones and marble. The stores at the alley sold mostly amulets and talismans, protective screens that expanded with a tap of the wand, protective gear in general, and housed healing clinics, which fixed eyesight, broken bones, animal bites and vaccinated small children.

Hadrian didn't need either battle armours or amulets, so he had been to the place only once or twice. On the other hand, he found Potions Market situated deeper into Knockturn and serving as a transition between it and Lite Alley much more interesting.

When he had first been told about potions, he had deemed it necessary to find out more about the subject. It wasn't that he himself was interested – nothing like that. But Potions was a lot like chemistry, and Hadrian was aware that it was one subjects that didn't largely require having magical abilities.

So, he had bought a few of books such as _The Beginner's Guide to Potions-Making_ and some potions ingredients – the most basic and cheap ones, of course. He thought it prudent that Milly knew how to brew potions because it would make her dream of creating an ideal drug come true.

The blowing wind made the large umbrellas over customers' heads flutter, and Hadrian sneezed. He shrank deeper into the warmth of his magically warmed scarf, cursing the cold and blessing the day he had the sense to go buy some warm clothes.

While the weather was far from winter, it was still windy, going from the unbearably dry hotness of two weeks ago to the insufferable coolness, from which only from jackets saved.

The day he went to Wilkes Winter Wear was memorable for another reason, too.

_Flashback:_

_Hadrian had just received some more money from the mute Brad Ashton sent by Milly and was standing in front of the ostentatious shop, which was posh and high-class, completely unlike what he was used to._

_Taking a deep breath, Hadrian entered Wilkes Winter Wear. His eyes were immediately glued to the figure standing in the middle of the room. It was that same boy from the bank, his silvery eyes glinting with the same superiority and voice a well-bred drawl. _

_The woman taking measurements had her head down as she listened to his complaints._

"_I had to wait for fifteen minutes before you deemed yourself ready to tend to your customer," the boy said, his voice clear and his back straight. "I can assure you that my father will know of it."_

"_B-but-"the woman spluttered, her eyes teary and hands rubbing at them. _

"_Young Mr. Malfoy," a voice joined their conversation, and a flabby man rubbing his hands appeared. Hadrian, who was hidden by one of the standing mirrors, couldn't help but think there was something oily in his appearance. "I'm sure we can come to an agreement without needing to bother your esteemed father-"_

"_Cut it out, Wilkes, I'm just joking," the platinum blond drawled coldly. "You are right, this time I won't go to father for it, but next time…" he trailed off, letting the man come to the conclusion himself._

_Wilkes paled and trembled. "Oh, thank you, young mister, I can't explain how grateful I am for your decision-"_

"_Of course you will be," Malfoy replied arrogantly, his chin high as he stepped down from the stool he had been standing on. "Otherwise, you wouldn't own this business at all."_

_Wilkes kept on bowing down, whispering how grateful he was. None of the occupants noticed Hadrian or the disgust plastered across his face at the man's actions._

"_You have my measurements. My esteemed mother will send you the models we decide on. And I want everything done the right way this time, Wilkes."_

_The boy turned around on his heels, and only when he was near the door, did he notice Hadrian's calm presence. Their eyes locked, silvery grey with emerald green, and, no matter how retarded or clichéd it sounded, for that moment no one but them existed in the world._

_The spell was broken when the crying and shivering woman noticed the presence of another customer, and greeted Hadrian, inviting him to come in._

_The boy did as told, and maybe it was a mere figment of his imagination, but Hadrian thought he saw the blond's cold sculptured face break into a tiny smile sent in his direction._

_/Flashback ends._

Shaking his head to end this stupor he had fallen in, Hadrian finished his ice-cream, feeling his insides freeze at the coldness. He scrunched up his face, thinking that he would need to tell Florean that he had overdone the freezing charm once again.

The man's dream had been to be a historian, after all, not the owner of the parlor. His late father had guilted him into this profession, and the man was still quite uncomfortable in it. Together with his sheepish appearance, this helplessness kinda endeared customers, but Hadrian wasn't impressed.

The boy sighed and looked tiredly at the pile of books in front of him.

'_Do I _really _have to read them? I can't even slack off. Milly did promise that she would check my knowledge later. This traitor, making me work so much.'_

And no, he wasn't pouting.

XXX

"Mr. Paradis and Ms. Spice." Tom smile at Hadrian and Mily descending down the staircase. Their appearance was a bit ruffled after the sleepless night.

Aberforth refused to be found, and it was the beginning of September already, and all of them were beginning to tire out. No matter how entertaining or fascinating Diagon Alley was, they wanted to complete their goal and locate the man. Not to mention that Ariana's whining grated on Milly's nerves and for Hadrian it was even worse – Kamaria was a voracious creature with endless energy, who never stopped complaining.

The most annoying thing was that while not a word was said to them about Aberforth, Albus's face was smiling down his crooked nose from all newspapers.

"One hot chocolate and a coffee without sugar," Milly said. If Tom found it odd that Hadrian's 'sister' never came down to have breakfast or at all, he never voiced it.

The bartender made the drinks and set them in front of Milly and Hadrian. The boy sniffed his hot chocolate, drawing in the pleasant smell. At first he had been reluctant to eat here – the condition of the inn seemed rather unsanitary to him, but after he had learned how to discreetly cast Antibacterial charm, it wasn't problematic anymore.

"Are there any alcoholic beverages that are wizard's specialty?" Milly asked suddenly, her fingers tapping at the edges of the small porcelain cup.

Tom widened his eyes in surprise at the question. "Why, of course, Ms. Spice! There is Ogden's Firewhiskey, Merlin's Ambrosia, Morgana's Secret-"

"I mean different types of drinks, not brands," Milly cut in hurriedly in fear that the man would name all the brands existing. "Like firewhiskey, which is different from normal muggle whiskey."

"I'm afraid you are a bit too young to concern yourself about them, lad." Tom winked at her while Hadrian covered his mouth with his hand at the indignant face Milly made. If only the man knew! "You can drink butterbeer. It's non-alcoholic. It is best done by good old Madame Rosmertha in the Three Broomsticks."

"The Three Broomsticks?"

"That's in Hogsmeade. There is another pub there, called the Hog's Head. The owner is Aberforth, makes the best-"

"What?" Milly shouted. Heads turned their way, a cigarette falling from a witch's mouth. The girl regained control of herself and repeated quietly, "Did you say Aberforth?"

Tom was looking back and forth between them, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Why, yes, lad. He's old Albus's brother, you see. A pity, of course, that a man from a Light family like him would work in such a shady place…"

Hadrian didn't listen anymore. He rose from his seat and skipped up the stairs to the room, ignoring the flabbergasted and confused cry of Tom.

He knew where Hogsmeade was and he approximately knew the location of the Hog's Head.

And now Aberforth's, too.


	7. Chapter 7 Aberforth and Hogwarts, First

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. How does his relationship with his parents and the people around him progress with the war around them? Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/n: **I was delighted while reading your reviews and want to thank you sooo much!

Your questions will be answered in future chapters eventually, especially concerning the Time-travelling thing. Dumbledore is the Headmaster, while McGonagall is the Deputy Headmistress - this is not Tom's era but the Marauders'. The mumbling figure isn't Dumbledore, by the way :)

Oh, and I tweaked the timeline a little - in canon, if I'm not mistaken, the war was already raging as Lily, James, Sev, and others went to Hogwarts. Here, however, it will start a little bit late. Though it'll still happen during Harry's early years.

Anyway, **next chapter will be up on Friday**, maybe even earlier! And, if you want some a bit faster-moving HPTMR, read my other story _When Lies Turn into Truths_!

Enjoy!

**Chapter 7. Aberforth and Hogwarts, First Impressions**

"How do we get to Hogsmeade?"

"The Floo System. At least, it was the best kind of transportation during my time. Heard about it?"

"I think the bartender mentioned something along those lines," Hadrian trailed off uncertainly, twirling a lock of his black hair in his fingers.

"Is it dangerous?" Of course, Milly would be the one to worry about their safety.

"Not really. You just have to pronounce the name of the location carefully. Otherwise, you can get a nasty surprise by ending up in mid-air. Some wizards love building fireplaces in the strangest of places to make accidents happen."

"I would have thought it to be illegal."

"Well, it is. Doesn't matter, though. If they don't go around boasting about it, no one will be looking for a fireplace up in the air."

"It's perfect for assassination." Oops. Milly had said it a tad too loudly, and people were now slowly edging away from their small group.

"That's the main reason they are built. You invite the person you hate 'home', giving him the wrong address. And voila – he ends up in the heart of a raging volcano."

"Useful."

"Purebloods often use this kind of murder. They are really crafty, I should say."

"Doesn't surprise me. From what I've read so far, with their constant inter-family rivalries and controversies it's essential to be cunning enough to come up with all sorts of extraordinary solutions."

They were making their way through the bustling with activity crowd, their voices almost drowning in the general noise. Ariana was looking around curiously as she hadn't been allowed out in fear that she would get recognized – her brother Albus seemed to be quite famous.

Even now her face was covered by the hood of her summer cloak, which had a Refreshing Charm on it.

Their belongings, including the fridge, were all shrunk and inside of Hadrian's pocket. He thanked all gods he had had enough sense to ask Tom the bartender to do the spellwork. The toothless man had also kindly offered to cast a Feather-Light Charm on their possessions. Hadrian thought it would be useful to learn how to cast one himself soon.

Hadrian had seen this Floo Office around, so he had no trouble in leading the way. The building itself was situated on the opposite side of Ollivander's, and he sped up a bit, not wishing to see that particular man.

Something in Ollivander made unpleasant shivers run down his spine.

"Here it is," Ariana commented unnecessarily when they entered the building, which was as shabby as everything else in the alley.

Hadrian walked up to the counter, at which an elderly wizard with lopsided glasses resided. He smiled encouragingly at the boy, putting away the newspaper he had been holding.

"What can I do for you, young man?" he asked benignly.

"Can we get to Hogsmeade from here?" Hadrian asked, motioning at Milly and Ariana. The old wizard threw a suspicious glance at the hooded figure but kept silent. Hoods weren't that uncommon among wizards no matter the weather.

"Of course, you can! From our office you can get to any part of the world!" The man stood up from his seat and began recounting, "Italy, Australia, Germany, France, Zimbabwe, Thailand, Taiwan-"

"Thank you for your kind offer," Hadrian cut in, fearing that they would be held there for ages. "But we _really _need to go to Hogsmeade."

The old man deflated, and, for a second, Hadrian almost regretted having snapped at him.

"Oh. Three persons… That would be two galleons eleven sickles."

Hadrian, who had gotten used to magical currency and knew his way around in the shops, widened his eyes at the ridiculous price.

"Why so much?"

The older wizard shrugged apologetically, helplessness in his every motion.

"It's one of the biggest British magical communities. If you were asking me for a trip to a muggle neighbourhood, it would have cost you seven sickles per person. Alas, it's fifteen sickles."

Hadrian sighed but had no other choice but to fish the necessary money out of his pocket and hand it to the man, looking dejected. He couldn't help but glance apologetically at Milly out of the corner of his eye.

He swore to himself that when he began to earn his own money, he would hand it all to Milly as a token of appreciation for what the girl had done to him.

The man took the money and led them to the row of fireplaces, each with soft green flames flickering inside. He stopped in front of one of them and turned around to explain how the Floo System worked.

"Just think of a place you want to appear in and say the name of the destination. It's easy, really. Now, where do you want to go?" he asked their small group kindly.

"I can choose the exact location?" Hadrian blinked. He had assumed that there were special points or offices where you could arrive by Flooing, not that he could visit a house or a bar or something of the kind. He guessed that magic really was omnipotent.

And he had it.

For the first time he felt breathless awe because of his magical talent.

"The Hog's Head, then," Hadrian responded to the old man nonchalantly, not fazed even when he darted a quick glance at the hooded Ariana once more. "We have a relative working there."

"Ah!" the old man exclaimed, hunching in relief. "That's all right. There is nothing to do in the Hog's Head for children like you. A foul place, it is."

"My friend is a muggle." Hadrian gestured at the sneering Milly. "Do I have to hold her or something?"

"A muggle?" the wizard perked up, fixing them with a long gaze. "A real, living muggle? Wow. Yes, yes, you have to clutch her arm or shoulder. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to use the Floo."

Hadrian nodded and stretched out his arm for Milly to hold onto.

"The Hog's Head," he intoned clearly, trusting Ariana to do the same in the fireplace next to his.

They were going to see Aberforth. Finally.

XXX

The Hog's Head turned out to be a dirty pub with the odor of sweat, filth, bad alcohol, and all other disgusting things coming to mind flying around. Hadrian scrunched up his face. Even the orphanage hadn't been this disgusting to be in.

With a critical eye he observed the contingent of the pub.

Shady-looking cloaked wizards – and, Merlin, was this a _vampire_ snogging someone senseless? – were drinking wizarding ale and firewhiskey, not minding three intruders. Actually, they were so absorbed in their conspiracies that they didn't even notice them arriving.

Milly watched on unemotionally, used to this kind of things, while Hadrian scrunched up his face in disgust when a large beardy man shot out his hand to pinch the arse of a passing waitress, shooting her a salacious wink, to which the young woman replied in a kind.

The hood hid Ariana's expression, preventing Hadrian from finding out her opinion on her dear brother's workplace.

"'Tis not a place for you, kids!" said a rough voice of the man coming towards them. The stranger had a long, wire-gray beard. On his nose spectacles with dirty lenses were placed.

Judging by the stifled gasp and the trembling of Ariana's lips under her hood, Hadrian had a pretty good idea who the man was.

"Get out of here," Aberforth continued in the same way, waving his hand as if to bat away a fly. "Bloody Albus, can't keep his own students in check. As lousy a Headmaster as he was a family member."

"You are Aberforth Dumbledore," Milly said, stepping forward in a hurry. She wanted this to be over and done with as soon as possible.

Aberforth gave her a long stare, his wizened hands gripping the place on his arm where Hadrian knew a wand holder usually was.

"Not many know this information, missy," he said slowly. Although his and Ariana's eyes were equally blue, hers had a dreamy, melancholically sweet quality to them.

His were a piercing brilliant blue, hiding unpredictable danger in their depths.

"We need to talk to you," Hadrian drew attention away from Milly. "In private."

"I've got nothing to talk about with kids like you."

"It _is_ important," Hadrian insisted, staring right into Aberforth's eyes. "It concerns Ariana."

Aberforth stiffened before shaking with anger. He grabbed Hadrian's arm roughly, not caring at all about the boy's pained gasp, and sloped towards a doorway behind the counter.

Hadrian wretched his hand out of the man's grip and, with a fulminating glare, climbed the wooden staircase that led to a sitting room. Above a small fireplace hung a single picture of Ariana's exact replica.

Aberforth was the last to enter his abode. He closed the door behind them and swished his wand in a quick sequence of motions, muttering a spell all the while.

"A secrecy charm," he explained, putting the wand away into the wand holder in his sleeve. "What is so important that a trio of kids would go to the big bad owner of the most notorious pub here? I'd think that your illustrious Headmaster would put better protection on his students."

"We are not students," Ariana's teary voice croaked out, making them all direct their stares at her. "And you, better than anyone, should know that Albus is fallible."

In a gesture that was every bit as dramatical as Hadrian had predicted it to be, the girl threw the hood off her head, revealing a mane of blonde curls and watery azure eyes, which looked into Aberforth's with longing and ineffable joy.

For a moment, the man looked lost, as if he were a child, and some hints of boyishness peeped out through his hardened features.

The spell was broken when he set his jaw in fury and gripped Hadrian's collar painfully, lifting him right into the air by the scruff of his neck.

"You-!" he bellowed at the rapidly blinking Hadrian, who was trying to shake the suffocating hands off himself.

Enraged, Milly was prepared to step in just as Ariana took hold of her wrist, preventing her from helping the boy. As Milly scuffled with a surprisingly strong girl – magic fuelling her body, no doubt – Aberforth continued shaking Hadrian, who was now positively struggling for breath, his dainty hands on the larger ones to get out of the grip. Aberforth was directing the force of his immense fury at Hadrian.

"I don't know what game you are playing, boy!" Hadrian's vision was tinted with black dots, his headache aching almost as strongly as it had been the day he fled the orphanage. "Did someone order you to do it?"

"I helped you feed goats when we were little children," Ariana's shaky voice cut through his interrogation, succeeding in halting Aberforth's oppressive hands. "You were the only one who could get me to eat when mother wasn't able to. We used to sit in the small garden of hydrangeas and gossip and badmouth Albus. One day, he found out and was so angry he hexed you into being a goat. Mother couldn't lift the spell and you had to stay in that form for a couple of days because Albus was being a petulant child. You told me this was the reason you like those animals so much – after you were forced to stay with them, you found out a great deal about their lives."

In a jerky motion Aberforth let go of Hadrian completely and turned around slowly, fearing this was just another dream to taunt him and remind him of what he had lost because of the excessive trust in Albus, to really see Ariana.

He stepped forward on his shaky legs and neared Ariana, his fingers gently tracing the trails of running tears. For the first time since Hadrian had seen him, the man looked tender and caring.

"How?.." he asked, his eyes drinking in the sight of his resurrected sister hungrily, every line of her face burned into his deepest memories.

"I am a Necromancer," Hadrian decided to come clean with the man. After long tiring hours of research, he knew that wizards with his gift were feared and hated, but if this man were really to adopt him…

Aberforth sucked in a breath, stepping away from Ariana.

"I hope you are not disgusted," Hadrian said, misinterpretating the motion. "She is still your sister but-"

"Don't be an idiot, boy. I'll never be disgusted of my own sister," Aberforth snapped. "It means that you are still dead," he addressed Ariana, his fingers caressing her cheek tenderly.

"Yes." The blonde smiled sadly, shaking her head in regret.

"What do you want? For resurrecting her?" Aberforth darted his piercing eyes towards Hadrian, who was watching at the reunion with the indulgent expression of a parent watching their child play with a dog.

"It's not permanent. The deal was that I'd keep her partially alive until she gets her revenge on Grindelwald."

Aberforth's gaze snapped back to Ariana. "Grindelwald? Ol' Albus's passion? Sorry to disappoint, but the scum's in prison now. The one he himself built. Ironic and fitting, isn't it?"

Ariana paled drastically at the thought of not getting her revenge. The coffee table in the room shook as did the chairs, and heavy curtains flowed as if there was wind in the room, and drawers in the cabinets moved in and out, making Milly tense and pull out her favourite knife.

"Bloody-! She's having one of her rages again," Aberforth cursed under his breath. A whirlwind of colours was slowly arising around the girl.

Before anyone could move a thing, Hadrian concentrated hard, the adrenaline rushing to his brains enhancing his abilities, and felt the familiar fogginess inside of his head. Not wasting a moment longer than necessary, he snapped the bond between Ariana and the world of the living.

In the real world, the girl's legs failed her and she fell, almost reaching the floor, when Aberforth's careful hands caught her.

He cradled his beloved sister to his chest as if she were a babe in the crib, callous fingers entangled in her blonde curls. He stared bleakly down at her porcelain face, so sweet in its innocence.

"Grindelwald is in prison but not dead," the old man whispered finally, all his boyishness lost. Now he really looked his age. "Nurmengard is a dreary fortress, unplottable and inapproachable. It's said to be impossible to either get out or enter, but that scum's still alive somewhere in there. The deal's still in effect. Say what you want from me."

Hadrian regarded the man for a long moment before sighing and approaching the hunched figure.

"Ariana said that the Dumbledores are widely known in the Wizarding World. Adopt me, at least in the name. If you do, I'll be resurrecting Ariana for you to spend some time with until the time of revenge comes, no matter how long it takes."

Aberforth was surprised by the request to say the least. His astounded expression would always make Hadrian snicker whenever the boy would remember it in his dark future.

"Huh?" he asked gruffly, still twirling a lock of Ariana's hair in his hands. "Kid, you don't know what you are asking for. I can grant your request, but do you really want it?"

"He did say it, didn't he?" Milly asked, tapping her foot impatiently. "Cut out the crap, old man, and get down to business. You do know that saying about time and money, right?"

Aberforth ignored her.

"Hn. If we become family, I want to get to know you. Will be spending a lot of time together. One day, I might come to think of you as real family but know that Ariana was, is, and will always be my priority."

"I wouldn't think of anything more," Hadrian said simply, his heart thrumming in his small chest no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "It's a gracious offer…" He trailed off and stared at the picture the siblings made.

Something in his heart clenched painfully. He wondered if one day he would meet someone who would love him and care about him in the same way, no matter if it was platonically or not.

Being with Milly was great, but he couldn't imagine himself… and her… Yuck! No, better turn off his wild imagination. The vision gave him _shivers_.

"I would resurrect her for good," Hadrian found himself saying. "If only I knew how. Alas, my powers are only good enough for temporary resurrections."

Aberforth looked up at the boy, considering him. "I've heard about Necromancer Guilds. We've got time to research that. For now, I want you to make up a good story as your background. What's your name?"

"Hadrian Paradis. I grew up in an orphanage, so I don't know anything about my ancestry. Ariana mentioned a possibility that I'm a pureblood. Or a halfblood."

"Hmm…" Aberforth fixed Hadrian with a long stare. "You do have some Potter features. Your hair and cheekbones, for once. And a Black nose. Your chin is sorta Dumbledorish as is your high forehead, Yeah, I do think we'll pass you off as my grandson."

"Grandson?" Hadrian's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"I'm around hundred, boy! Did you expect to call me 'Daddy'?"

"Not really," Hadrian muttered under his breath. "Is Ariana going to be too, you know, your granddaughter?"

"Of course! People'll believe it 'cause she's so like me and Albus. And everyone who matters knows I love her, so it won't be suspicious to call her 'Ariana'." Aberforth tapped his chin in thought. "To create some resemblance between you two, we'll be dyeing her hair black. I'll also ask a good friend of mine to research some Eye-Colour Changing Spell."

"A surprisingly good plan," Milly said, standing up behind Hadrian and placing her large hand on his thin shoulder, which created a striking contrast.

"What about the backstory?"

"Paradis… Nah, can't remember anyone with this name. I had a fling with a Potter woman decades ago. She was said to run off with a muggle, already swollen with a child. After that, nobody's heard about her. Let's say that 'our' son married a squib woman, who later died in an accident, but not before giving birth to you and your 'elder sister'. Short after you were born, they were hit by a crisis and dumped you both to the orphanage."

"Sounds good," Hadrian admitted after a moment of prolonged silence. "But what if someone checks?"

Aberforth shrugged uncaringly before continuing in that gruff tone of his.

"I'll go back to your orphanage and fix the memories of the caretakers and orphans themselves."

"Wizards can do that?"

"Wizards can do anything, boy. And when you have years void of any reason to live," Aberforth clutched Ariana with a tormented expression, "You learn to find pleasure in scientific research."

"I've never seen your works in the library," Hadrian said curiously. As far as he could remember, shelves were always filled with Albus's treatises, books, short articles, and what not.

"I'm not Mr. Brilliant – don't find any pleasure in publicity." Aberforth snorted, his face contorted in an expression of extreme disdain, as if the thought itself was foreign to him. "Doesn't mean I don't expand my knowledge, though."

Hadrian felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his lips.

He was going to begin a new page in his life, setting off on an unpredictable path he would pave for himself. Aberforth was likable enough, and Hadrian had gotten used to Kamaria and Ariana. He wold be sending letters to Milly, maybe even seeing her in Diagon Alley.

Life was good.

Years from now, Hadrian would wonder what would have happened had the man declined his request.

Would things have turned out less difficult? Less painful? Or would have gotten worse? Yet, every time he would feel tears of despair burning behind his eyelids, the sharp sting of the knife of betrayal twisted in his back, the trembling in his hands, which longed for a cold blade to end his sufferings…

He would remember this time of unadulterated contentment, when he had everything he desired

XXX

"_It's boring in here,"_ Kamaria complained loudly, her voice a grating nuisance in Hadrian's ears. _"You promised to teach me something new."_

"_I _am_ doing it now,"_ Hadrian snapped, not looking up from a huge tome he was holding on his lap. _"This something is called 'patience'. A pity that you haven't learned it by now."_

He was sitting in Aberforth's private set of rooms just above the pub. They were shielded by a Silencing Charm, so the boy was completely protected from the drunken voices of Aberforth's dubious clientele. After the year he had been living there, he had gotten used to the filthy men and shady characters trafficking in and out of the pub.

Hadrian wasn't particularly happy about it but learned not to mind the constant noise when he went down for a walk.

The year had been pure bliss – the boy was ready to admit it.

He had a room to himself, the bed was soft and comfy and relaxing to fall onto after a day of intensive magical training, and Aberforth was a brilliant cook. What's there not to love?

What was more, he had warmed up to his new family.

Ariana had her relapses and slept in a charmed coffin most of the time, which prevented them from spending too much time together. At the same time, sometimes Hadrian took her out for a walk and came to love her sweet character and harmlessness. The girl literally insisted in saving kitties! They had a few running around the pub, much to the astonishment of the customers.

The villagers often gossiped about 'sweet cuties' doing the shopping or simply walking, and pondered about who they might be – both Hadrian and Aberforth agreed it was good to stay hidden for as long as possible. The appearance of a Dumbledore in Hogwarts was bound to astonish a few people and make others wary.

Aberforth had taken it upon himself to teach Hadrian and Ariana magic – often the subjects seemed random, but later Hadrian would come to realize what this or that charm, seemingly pointless, was needed for.

While Aberforth taught Ariana the basic spells she hadn't been taught in her own time – including Occlumency, as he had been horrified by what had been done to his lovely sister by their own mother beneath his very nose – Hadrian was additionally taught battle techniques and hexes.

Aberforth was an extraordinary duelist. He had shared his secret with Hadrian some time ago. It had been to use every dirty trick under his sleeve but not reveal his trump card until the very end.

The man was also adept at using household charms, which were a storehouse of battle spells and tactics for any crafty wizard.

Aberforth had showed Hadrian how to tear apart one's skin by using a Vacuum-Cleaning Charm on it and keeping it on until the skin snapped. It was rather gory but unexpected.

Another was a charm designed for cutting carrots – it was untraceable to any wards because of its simplicity but cut a sequence of even gashes across the skin. A person wouldn't die immediately but they would be hard-pressed to find somewhere to heal, thus distracted and an easy prey.

Everything was for breaking Grindelwald out of Azkaban only to kill him.

Personally, Hadrian thought it was quite wasteful – from what he had heard, Grindelwald had been a hit in his time and a brilliant student. He had achieved things other people dreamed about due to the extensiveness of Grindelwald Library.

All in all, his time at the Dumbledore's was unforgettable with the amounts of affection and attention showered upon him.

"_Pet me,"_ Kamaria ordered sleepily, slithering to him with her black and blue coils trailing over the floor.

Hadrian allowed this small indulgence and rubbed the snake's head. The coolness of her scales didn't bother the boy nearly as much anymore. He felt a tiny smile slowly creep onto his face. Kamaria lazily opened up one of her eyes to look at him in interest.

"_You look glad about something,"_ she noticed. Hadrian turned over the page of the book he was reading.

"_I'm so happy I could die,"_ he admitted honestly. He found he had no trouble saying such things to Kamaria – it's not like she would be able to tell anyone else his thoughts or reveal his darkest and most shameful secrets.

"_I don't understand you, humans."_ Kamaria flickered her tongue, touching Hadrian's pale hand with it. _"You want to die when you are miserable. You want to die when your life is grey. And now, you're saying you want to die because you are happy? You make no sense."_

Hadrian shrugged, frowning as the information he had stumbled across in the book was known to him. He flipped through the pages in irritation to find something more entertaining.

"_It does, if you think about it more. Well, kinda does. It means that if a person were to die right now, he would have no regrets and be able to rest peacefully in the afterlife,"_ the boy explained automatically, continuing his ministrations, which made Kamaria almost purr in delight.

"_I still think I prefer living, thank you. This afterlife thingy is boring and lonely, and really isn't something you'd want to experience,_" the snake hissed.

Hadrian looked away from his book, directing his attention on Kamaria. A spark of interest danced in the depths of his bright green eyes as he put his finger underneath the snake's scaly chin to make her look at him.

"_I have been meaning to ask you… What is there after death?"_

Kamaria hissed at being manhandled and opened her jaws to tell him off and express her disdain and utter offense, when her jaws snapped shut and she stared at Hadrian in surprise.

"_I… don't remember. I remember the feelings of dread, cold, hunger, fear… That's all."_

Hadrian nodded solemnly, returning to reading and, later, to caressing Kamaria's dark coils. His expression was pensive – this was exactly the same answer as Ariana's had been. He had hoped that an animal would have a different reaction and different recollections but, apparently, it wasn't meant to be.

For now, though, he would concentrate on "Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, and Hogwarts, where he would go a few days from now on.

XXX

"Got everything packed?" Aberforth rasped out with his usual roughness, his wrinkled hands on his hips and fingers drumming a tune impatiently.

It was the evening of September, 1st, and they were standing in front of the fireplace in Aberforth's study. Ariana stood with a benign if sad smile – he would be able to resurrect her only a few times a month, when he would have an opportunity to sneak out of the castle and into the Hog's Head through a secret passageway connecting the Room of Requirements with the pub.

"I still don't understand why I couldn't have gone to the train station together with everyone else," Harry muttered, lifting his trunk and appreciating the Feather-Light Charm Aberforth had taught him. Now, the boy could use it himself as well as some other trivial spells which, despite their easiness, could be put to a good use.

"Aren't you special?" asked Milly, who had arrived from London for the purpose of seeing him off.

"Don't see much use in it," Aberforth repeated for the umpteenth time that day. "Think about it. Why go all the way to London if the train arrives at the station with a Floo in it?"

"That's a relief, then, that no one checks who is present at the trains anyway," Ariana said lightly, smiling at Hadrian dreamily.

She had become saner a bit. Not by much, but at least her rages weren't that harsh anymore. They had found that training her magic stabilized her, thus Aberforth was teaching her everything she had missed out during her years under the Imperius Curse.

Hadrian was happy about it for another reason, too – the girl would be useful when they break into Nurmengard prison where Grindelwald was held. Any help would be valued in their challenging task.

"Where will I go from there?" Hadrian asked, looking Aberforth straight in the eye. The boy tried hard to not let his nervousness show.

He was anxious because of not having anyone with him. He hadn't realized just how much he had been relying on other people to protect or help him – even Kamaria, in a way, had been companionate enough to not let him feel scared when they had been wandering in the dark forest near Mould-on-the-Wold.

He had taken the snake with him, though she was placed in a charmed box, which used the same spell as Ariana's coffin. He wouldn't have many occasions to talk to her.

He would be completely and utterly alone. Oh, why did the thought frighten him so?

"There'll be trunks piled up somewhere, just throw yours somewhere in there," said Aberforth, pulling a small pot of Floo powder out of a cabinet. He was frowning and his movements were jerky, the traits telling Hadrian more than anything how the man was really worried about him going to Hogwarts.

The boy wasn't the only one whose feelings had changed throughout the year.

Milly, seeing that it was time now, embraced Hadrian with all the might of her strong hands, her hands clutching onto him, not wishing to let go. Touched, Hadrian returned the embrace and patted the girl on her back, batting away a tear. It's not like they were parting for good.

"I'll write a lot," Hadrian promised, letting go of the girl and stretching his lips in a tight smile.

The manner in which he bid his goodbye to Ariana wasn't as touchy feely but no less heartfelt. Finally, the boy looked at Aberforth, who was gazing at him with an expression of a proud father as he handed Hadrian Floo powder.

"Don't forget to show up once in a while," he said with a boyish grin. "Hadrian."

XXX

The station was misty and cold, and Hadrian hunched in his school robes. He pulled out his holly wand out of its holster and swished it, muttering an incantation. Immediately, heat rushed to his body, and the boy could relax.

He really wanted to learn to use wandless and non-verbal magic. Alas, according to Aberforth, they were branches of magic available to the strongest and most talented wizards, who always ended up the most powerful in their times, each in their own right.

He would have to wait at least several years more to learn how to correctly use it.

He sneezed and wiped his nose with a handkerchief, using the opportunity to watch the crowd of students falling out of the train, the lateness having no effect on their mood – everyone was so excited that their agitated chatter never ceased.

As everyone was piling up their trunks in the place a large, enormously tall man had pointed them to, Hadrian joined the mass of students, setting his own trunk neatly and placing a cage with his snowy white owl, Hedwig, on top of it.

When the students would be Sorted, magic would distribute their belongings to according places.

Hadrian, of course, knew everything there was to know about the Sorting, the Hat, the Houses, and the points. Yet, it didn't diminish his enthusiasm in the least.

"Firs' years!" the man – a half-giant, probably, from what Hadrian could see – shouted merrily, a shining lamp dangling from his hand. "Firs' years, over 'ere!"

Anxiously, Hadrian followed the flow of the other first years, noticing how many of them were split up in small groups. He noticed the three pureblood children he vaguely remembered meeting at the library. They were walking next to the boy from Wilkes Winter Wear's.

Their clothing and postures were so different from those of a couple of children walking a few steps behind. A pretty redhead girl was holding the hand of a haggard black-haired black-eyed boy wearing a sour expression on his youthful face.

He was glaring hatefully at four boisterous boys, one of whom distantly resembled Hadrian himself. When Hadrian was closer, he could distinguish the redhead whispering something along the lines of 'Don't think about it, they are not worth it' in the boy's ear, at which he scowled more.

The string of students followed the serpentine trail that led right to a bottomless dark lake. The magnificent mountains were seen from the shore, but their splendor paled in comparison to the impressive castle.

Hadrian felt his breath get caught in his throat at the sight; he had never seen anything as marvellous as that.

They were told to get into the small boats, no more than five students in each. Hadrian didn't have any preferences, so he sat in the first boat he came across, with two boys and a girl there already.

The girl, a cheery thing with a black bob and dark grey eyes, smiled at him encouragingly.

"Hi! I'm Wendy Vane and those two guys here are Augustus Rookwood," she motioned towards a somewhat plain-looking brunet, "Huang Chang," an Asian reserved boy, "and Frank Longbottom." The latter was dozing off on her shoulder without a care in the world. He had blond hair and puffy cheeks.

"I'm Hadrian," the raven-haired boy introduced himself, skipping the surname. This didn't seem to bother Vane, who blathered on.

"Oh, I can't express how pleased I am to meet you! I hope you are more fun than those three bores here," she gestured at the other occupants of the boat, not noticing the offense written all over Rookwood's face.

"Do you know who I am? I-"

"Did you see that giant? He's a giant, right? I'm not mistaken, I tell you!" she clapped her hands in excitement at seeing a half-human for the first time.

"Do you hear-"

"I've never seen one before. True, this Hager or Hunger or something guy is a halfbreed, but his creature blood is cool anyway!"

"I'm talking to you-"

"By the way, do you know how much prejudice there is in the Wizarding World? It's awful! How people can be so intolerant, I'll never know!"

"I give up!" the Rookwood boy threw his hands up into the air in irritation, a scowl marring his face as he stared at the blabbering girl who didn't deign him with her attention.

The boat was sailing through the lake now, and the soil was getting nearer and nearer with each passing moment.

"Do you know how we get Sorted?" the Chinese boy, who had both impressive and calming air around him, asked Hadrian, not minding the background noise.

"We'll get to wrestle a troll!" the boy who had been napping sprung to his feet suddenly in a motion full of dramatics. When it didn't cause the effect he had been hoping for – he got an unimpressive rise of an eyebrow from Hadrian and Chang and a degrading sneer from Rookwood – he pouted and sat down again, letting Vane pull his head to her shoulder again.

"Don't mind him," she said patiently. "He's a head case. I've known him for years and trust me when I say it wasn't easy."

"Could have fooled me," Rookwood muttered with his eyebrows creased in a frown.

Hadrian watched on in exasperation as a fight broke out between Longbottom and Rookwood, with Vane cheering them on and holding her hands up in merriment.

He traded glances with Chang, and understanding shone in the Asian's chocolate eyes. He threw Hadrian a small grin and, when they were leaving the boat to enter the magnificent castle, stretched out his hand to help him out.

The doors swung open and revealed a strict-looking, relatively young woman with a firm bun of black hair and thin lips. She watched as Hadrian, along with his yearmates, gathered into a tight group before her.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she addressed the half-giant, who chuckled merrily and, with a wink into the crowd, disappeared in the evening fog. "Now, first years, I want you to fall into a line and follow me."

They did as told, eventually arriving at an antechamber, where she gave them a boring lecture-like speech about the importance of Houses in Hogwarts and points and unity and everything Hadrian had heard from Aberforth and students coming to Hogsmeade. After she was finished, she called them once more.

"I suggest you smarten up." The woman, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, told them sternly and looked pointedly at the trail of drool falling from Frank Longbottom's mouth. The boy flushed and wiped it with his sleeve, at which Hadrian heard Avery mutter 'blood traitor, as filthy as his name implies'.

When everyone was ready, McGonagall once again led them, into the Great Hall itself this time.

She stopped in the middle of the room, beside a stool with a patched hat lying on it. As if sensing their approach, the Hat began to sing its yearly song.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Hall clapped loudly. A curly-haired boy and the one next to him wearing glasses, were the loudest, both whistling and whooping with joy at being in Hogwarts.

"Heh, Jamesy, let's pray we won't be with that Slytherin scum!" the curly-haired one shouted loudly, making purebloods glare at him. A timid-looking amber-eyed boy, who had something wolfish in his features, nodded with a sheepish expression, as if he was afraid both of the purebloods' hatred and his friends' disapproval of him not agreeing with them.

Hadrian sneered at the spinelessness before turning his gaze on the last boy of that group, a pudgy one, who reminded him way too much of Jimmy Bart – the same shifty eyes, nervous twitching, and the overall feel of a backstabbing bastard.

Were there any decent people at Hogwarts?

Hadrian was seriously beginning to doubt it. Everyone was either too pushy or too prejudiced.

"Now, children, I want you to put on this Hat so that it may sort you into Houses," McGonagall said loudly, flashing a disapproving look at the curly-haired boy and his friends, including the one who looked a bit like Hadrian himself.

She unrolled the long scroll she was holding in her hands and began the Sorting, loudly calling out the names of the students.

"Avery, Calisto!"

Hadrian recognized the straw-haired stunning girl from the library. She paraded haughtily to the stool; the Hat took a second to send her in Slytherin, which was rewarded by peals of thunderous applause.

"Bagman, Ludovic!", a tall boy with a rosy complexion and round blue eyes, became the first Ravenclaw.

"Black, Bellatrix!"

A ghostly pale girl, who bore resemblance to that outrageous boy from before, down to the blackest wild curls possible, marched to the Hat energetically, scrunching up her face in disgust as soon as she seized it. She didn't need to take it on, though – as soon as the Hat touched her, it shouted "SLYTHERIN!" for the whole Hall to hear.

The girl cackled, something wild in her shrilly voice, and plopped up on the seat next to Avery, looking at the unsorted children smugly.

"Black, Sirius!"

Ah. So, they _were_ related, after all.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Ha-ha! See, see!" the curly-haired boy, Sirius, shouted gleefully to his sister? Cousin? Sticking out his tongue before turning to show his thumb to his four-eyes friend.

Agitated whisperings around the Hall about a Black in Gryffindor were thunderous and covered the hesitant sounds of applause. From what Hadrian had heard of the Blacks so far, all of them seemed to get in Slytherin or Ravenclaw – never in a House as Light as Gryffindor.

"Bones, Amelia!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Bones, Edgar!"

What's this? Another set of siblings? How intriguing, Hadrian supposed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Ryan!" got in Ravenclaw, not before shooting a longing glance at his friend "Goldstein, Russell!" who went in Hufflepuff, where he was joined by the likeable "Chang, Huang!"

Then a pair of muggleborns were sorted – "Crawford, Geffrey!" into Gryffindor and "Daley, Morgan!" into Ravenclaw.

"Diggory, Amos!"

A plump, excited boy scrambled to the stool, eager to put on the Hat, which shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hadrian was bursting with anticipation now. It was difficult to control his breathing when "Drendel, Agatha!" was sorted into Gryffindor and it was his turn.

McGonagall's eyes widened comically before she forced out, "Dumbledore, Hadrian!"

A hush fell on the crowd and everyone was leaning in, to catch at least a glimpse of the wizard with yet unknown heritage.

"How is it possible, Albus? I didn't know you had any living relatives…" Astronomy Professor asked the Headmaster, whose twinkle was absent for the first time as he gazed at the petit boy with emerald eyes and raven black hair.

"I don't know, Sinistra. Believe me, I don't know," he said breathlessly from the Head table, his expression lost yet hopeful. Did he really have a chance to redeem himself with another member of his crumbled family?

On shaky legs, but trying to keep his back straight, Hadrian walked to the stool and put the Hat on. He was unprepared for the voice that sprung in his mind immediately.

"Hmm… Let's see… That's a good mind you have here, boy… Maybe, you could be a Ravenclaw?"

Hadrian shrugged, not really caring about the House he would get into.

"No… You are not afraid to take risks and will never hole yourself up with a book if you can help matters with magic. You are adventurous, too. But you will never act rashly like a Gryffindor would, no; you are too much of a thinker. You also value loyalty in others and are loyal yourself, never betraying those you put your trust into. So, where does this leaves us?"

"Let's get this over with," Hadrian said in a bored tone, growing impatient. He remembered about Kamaria hidden in his trunk. Maybe he could sneak out of the dorms and speak with her? Just to get a hint of familiarity in this foreign place.

He heard the Hat take a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes… I know where to Sort you. This talent, one of the noblest… Combined with your cunningness and intelligence… You better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat hollered, making all the ongoing speculations about the House the popped up Dumbledore was going to end up into successfully stop. No one had expected it to be this particular House.

Hadrian didn't know what was worse – the whispers before the Hat's inconsiderate Sorting or after.

He placed the Hat in the hands of the stunned McGonagall and went to the Slytherin table, students at which were now clapping politely, their eyes calculative. They were clearly contemplating if he would be a valuable asset for their House and in what way.

Hadrian sat on the opposite side of Avery, whose expression was almost friendly now as the girl smiled at him, urging her friend Meliflua to do the same with a jab in the ribs.

When McGonagall regained control of herself, the Sorting continued. A few glances were still thrown carefully in Hadrian's direction.

"Edgecombe, Robbie!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Evans, Lily!"

The pretty redhead from before beamed at her friend before taking off to try the Hat on.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Hadrian didn't know why there was a feeling of heart-wrenching disappointment. Did he want her to get into his house? Why?

"Greengrass, Fidelis!" sat on Hadrian's left, not attempting to start a conversation like that Avery girl.

"Hubbard, Lane!" and "Jorkins, Bertha!" both joined Hufflepuff with bright smiles on their faces and to the loud clapping of their new housemates.

The drooling Longbottom got into Gryffindor, as did the timid amber-eyed boy "Lupin, Remus!"

"Malfoy, Lucius!"

Hadrian's eyes caught those of the platinum blond from the clothes shop.

Lucius. So, that's the name. Hadrian tried to commit it to memory.

Malfoy smirked at him before walking over to the Hat. Like with Avery, it barely touched him before shouting "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy sauntered to his seat on Hadrian's right, ignoring Avery's rapturous congratulations.

The Black female cooed out something along the lines of 'Aww, ickle Lucy's in the same House as me! Won't your mommy worry about big bad Bella do to you?'

Malfoy ignored them both, choosing to congratulate Hadrian softly on his admittance to Slytherin.

"Marchbanks", "McDougal", "McKinnon", "McLaggen"…

"Meliflua, Cesaire!"

The illustrious blond friend of Avery's had the same arrogance written all over his face as her as he paraded to the stool.

"SLYTHERIN!"

There were whispers once more when the Minister's granddaughter "Montague, Orla!" followed Meliflua right into Slytherin's House.

Hadrian was too distracted to listen to "Moon" and "Nightingale" were Sorted.

"Ollivander, Circe!"

The name of the prostrating girl caught Hadrian's attention and his eyes roved over the frail form of a white-haired girl with creamy skin and slanted silvery eyes, just like her father's. She stumbled on her way to the stool but ignored everyone's laughter.

"RAVENCLAW!"

After the despicable "Pettigrew, Peter!" got into Gryffindor, the same fate reached "Potter, James!".

Hadrian realized at once why they were similar. As Aberforth had said, purebloods were interrelated, thus he could truly be James Potter's relative. There was no way Hadrian could be a muggleborn with all the talents he had.

"Prewett, Alice!", another redhead, got into Gryffindor just before "Rookwood, Augustus!" went into Ravenclaw.

"Rosier, Evan!" sat on the other side of Malfoy, where he was joined by a large "Rowle, Thorfinn."

A new Gryffindor "Shacklebolt, Kingsley!", before going to his table, threw a glare as dark as his skin at "Smith, Lachesis!", a Slytherin girl.

The sour-faced boy "Snape, Severus!" went to Slytherin, too, and sat farther apart from the other first years, in the centre of whom Hadrian was surprised to find himself. The boy was throwing continuous longing gazes at the Gryffindor table and the redhead.

"Vane, Wendy!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Willet, Keith!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Finally, "Wood, Ulrick!" got into Gryffindor, with a swoosh of joy, and McGonagall officially ended the Sorting.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Suddenly, the dishes in front of him were now piled with food. Hadrian had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Hadrian felt his mouth water. He reached for a piece of roast lamb when a mild hand stopped him.

"I advise you to try this veal with tuna sauce." Malfoy's clear voice made Hadrian look at him questioningly, into the deep grey orbs. "Wouldn't wish to fill up the space in the stomach with bad kinds of food, hm?"

"Thank you," Hadrian said politely, proceeding to do as Malfoy had advised.

"Are you really a Dumbledore?" Rosier asked him curiously and propped up his elbow on the table, ignoring the twin scoffs of Meliflua and Avery at his manners.

"Yes,"Hadrian lied with practice ease. He recounted the story made up by Aberforth, noting how everyone, including the students from the other years, listened in attentively.

"You poor thing," Orla Montague said compassionately, clutching his arm in symapthy.

"Let him be, people," Malfoy drawled, drawing everyone's attention to himself. "I'm surprised to find you here, Cesaire. Weren't you supposed to go to Beuxbatons?"

Meliflua's face contorted into a grimace.

"I did. Well, mother wanted me to. Luckily, I, along with father, managed to convince her otherwise."

"Of course. I bet you'd be unable to imagine a day without me," Avery said haughtily, throwing her hair off her shoulder.

"You are exceedingly right, my lady," Meliflua agreed, bowing mockingly as far as his position allowed him. "I came here to spend time with you, _certainly _not to meet the greatest wizard ever Nicolas Flamel."

"Flamel?" Harry asked Malfoy, who was by far the sanest person there. The blond nodded carefully, observing Hadrian from beneath his fringe.

"Didn't you hear? Dumbledore couldn't find a teacher for the Defense against the Dark Arts this year, so he asked his old friend – you know that they are friends, right? – to replace the one from the previous year."

"And what happened to him? The other teacher, I mean?"

Rosier shrugged. "Got killed or something. He was some mudblood, anyway."

Hadrian wisely shut his mouth – who knew what kind of fault in his made up story they could find. Aberforth and he had checked the loopholes and couldn't find any, but better be safe than sorry.

Better to avoid any talks about muggleborns and muggles.

He listened to the energetic chatter all around him, watched marvelous stars and clouds of the charmed ceiling, felt observant eyes on him, and couldn't believe that all this was real.

His first year at Hogwarts was about to begin.


	8. Chapter 8 In the Blink of an Eye

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. How does his relationship with his parents and the people around him progress with the war around them? Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/n:** Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! It took so long because I wasn't satisfied with the initial version of this chapter, and so I deleted it. Then I was reading a lot of books and ancient treatises on warfare so that the battles in Harry's later years will be more realistic.

A couple of days ago, I was rereading all your reviews and they encouraged me to write this chapter almost from scratch :)

**Now, to answer some of your questions:**

**1) NO** Severus/Harry! They might be close friends later but it will never be a paring in this fic. It's mainly because Harry will have quite a few people enamoured with him (Here I have to mention that I'm not making him sleeping around like a whore! He will have sex only with Lucius and Tom.)

**2)** I know that most of the characters weren't in one year in canon but I want to minimize the amount of OCs here, so I try to include as many recognizable names from the canon as possible.

**3)** Aberforth hasn't made a little warrior out of Harry. He hasn't tought him any battle spells. In my version, many pureblood children are taught some charms like Tempus or very mild warming charms or Feather-Light Charms, but nothing more. Even when Harry remembers about the tricks with household charms, they are still only minor spells which don't really influence the underdeveloped core of a child.

While I'm not making purebloods into professionally cold creatures with practiced icy masks and experience in political maneuvering and manipulations (they are still children, their breeding notwithstanding), they all know those little charms and Harry isn't at an advantage.

There will be another reason why Dark purebloods see it fit to relay some more of their knowledge to their children than they usually do, but we'll get to it in a few chapters.

Oh, and Hermione did tell Harry and Ron on the train that she had practiced a lot of spells from their textbooks after receiving her Hogwarts letter.

**4)** There were no blood rituals. Harry still looks like Harry, albeit isn't a carbon copy of James and retains some Lily's features.

Oh, and before you ask, I'm not making all their lessons so detailed. Just some first ones and the ones that contain vital information or needed action.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 8. In the Blink of an Eye**

"Where is my toothbrush, has anyone seen it, guys?"

"Fuck, Rosier, do you lose _everything_? It's where you have left it!"

"You don't have to be a _bitch_ about it, Rowle!" Rosier snapped and rolled his eyes.

"Language! Your cussing hurts my sensitive ears."

"Guys, guys, stop with this nonsense," Greengrass cut in, his hands held up in the air, and a placatory expression plastered on his face. "We kinda have to present a united front, don't we?"

"It's not like anyone will see us bickering _here_ of all places. _A-ha_!" With a triumphant smirk, Rosier grabbed his toothbrush from its hiding place under a pile of strewn school robes.

"For being a scion of a known pureblood family, you sure are a slob," Hadrian noted dryly, mild disgust flashing in his eyes at the sight of articles of clothing, random books, small wizarding trinkets, and what not being scattered around the room.

What was even sadder was that Rosier's bedside wasn't the only one messy like that. Thorfinn Rowle's was much worse off, and Meliflua, no matter how haughty or disapproving or neat he made himself out to be, was a perfect example of what a student's bed should _not _be.

For the first time in years, Hadrian thanked the orphanage for teaching him how to take good care of his belongings and to clean up. Besides, Aberforth didn't allow him to slack off either – Hadrian had to help the old wizard out on many odd jobs, including but not limited to cleaning bar glasses and sometimes sweeping the floor. When he did the latter, Aberforth had to put up glamours on him so that the boy wouldn't be harassed by any dodgy or drunk wizards with unnatural inclinations spending their time in the pub.

"Do tell me that, Dumbledore," Malfoy muttered, throwing a quick glance at the seated raven-haired boy. "You can't believe how it feels to live in the same place as him for _months _because he was scared of darkness and afraid of sleeping alone."

"Oi! You promised not to tell!" Rosier cried out indignantly and threw one of his books at Malfoy, who easily sidestepped it and paraded to the bathroom.

"Slip of the tongue," came his muted voice from behind the closed door. He didn't sound concerned that he had just disclosed his friend's secret.

"Well, Malfoy Manor has house elves to clean up, at least." Rowle sneered and kicked one of Malfoy's trunks. He yelped when what was apparently a protective charm threw him off his feet and made phosphorescent green boils spread all over his face.

"Congratulations on making a fool of yourself, Rowle," Rosier said coolly, gathering his things and preparing to go after Malfoy. "The prospect of the others' first impression of you being this green shiny monster makes me salivate."

Rowle glared at him and opened his mouth to let out a derisive remark before snapping it shut and, after one last glower at the occupants of the room, sprinted off to find an upperclassman to get rid of the boils.

"Finally," Greengrass sighed and added finishing touches to his attire. He glanced at Hadrian his lips quirked slightly.

"You shouldn't let anything Rowle says get you down. Not that he did yet but just in case. His family isn't as high up as he would have liked, so he behaves all angry and jealous about it."

"Guys, I'm off!" Rosier's shout went unnoticed as Hadrian continued combing his long hair with a contemplative expression, Greengrass gathered his books and placed them gently into his bag, and Meliflua stared at himself intently in the mirror.

"Doesn't green sort of makes me look peaky?" Meliflua asked them loudly in his usual, clear voice. He was holding a mirror in his pale hand and was turning his head to the sides, meticulously searching for any defects in his flawless skin.

"Now that I think about it…" Hadrian trailed off and tapped his chin with his finger in consideration. "Those linings do give you an unhealthy greenish tint."

"… I knew I had to listen to my darling mother when she said I should go to Beauxbatons. Their uniforms are fantastic." Meliflua scowled and threw the compact mirror onto his bed carelessly. Hadrian didn't want to think what a waste it would have been if the ornate object had shattered into pieces.

He had no doubt that the cost of this small mirror was something out of horror films.

Hadrian had already made his bed, combed his hair and tied it into a neat ponytail with no stray hair thanks to a hair-straightening potion presented to him by Ariana, placed the books he would need into his bag, and reread some of the material.

The grim boy he had seen at the feast (Severus Snape, his name was, and Hadrian found it oddly fitting) had already left for breakfast without waiting for them. Meliflua hadn't stopped complaining about this act of bad manners until very recently.

Apparently, the only reason the toher boys in the dorm tolerated Snape at all and didn't subject him to bullying was because Snape claimed to be a descendant of the Princes, a died out line on the verge of unendurable poverty. Despite their catastrophical economical standing, they were of old blood, as pure as that of the Malfoys or the Blacks.

Hadrian couldn't help thinking about how contradictive wizards were.

They claimed to hate muggle blood, yet if someone bearing any resemblance to a wizarding family and knowing the most basic knowledge of Wizarding World was to step up as a pureblood, they would gladly accept this person into their midst, albeit warily at first.

No one had checked whether Hadrian's story was true and no one had truly checked Snape's background.

They were so easy to fool, wizards.

"Missed us?" Malfoy asked playfully, waltzing into the room with Rosier hot on his heels. Rowle was nowhere to be found, and Hadrian honestly hoped the other boy would get lost somewhere in the mangled labyrinth of dungeons.

Grrengrass immediately perked up at Malfoy's appearance, his eyes lightening up like those of an eager dog's awaiting its master. Hadrian almost scoffed at the display.

He didn't know what the deal with the two of them was, but this kind of behavior was strange; this attitude was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Malfoy merely smiled indulgently and directed his gaze at Hadrian, the corners of his lips twitching up.

"I still can't believe we have got a Dumbledore in Slytherin. Wonder how the Headmaster will treat you."

"Doubt that he will behave any differently towards me than he would towards you or any other student," Hadrian said a bit stiffly, not believing himself. He had heard quite a bit about the man from Aberforth and Ariana, and wasn't looking forward to seeing more of the old wizard.

"We'll see about that."

XXX

"You should really eat more fruit," Meliflua said disdainfully, watching Hadrian pick at his meal. The boy was simply too excited to ingest any food. "Your skin colour has a lot of space for improving, I assure you."

"Everything is all right with my skin tone!" Hadrian snapped, tired of the other's constant blabber about clothes and beauty and healthy eating. Meliflua was behaving like a bloody girl, for God's sake! How degrading.

"So what do we have first?" Malfoy asked pleasantly, piercing a tender piece of tuna with his fork and placing it into his mouth with much gusto. He ate very delicately, and Hadrian could clearly see the fruits of good breeding.

"Potions, I reckon," he said, shrugging and pulling out his timetable, which their Head of House had given them a little while before, to check if he was right.

"Slughorn," Orla Montague, a golden-haired green-eyed girl murmured distastefully and scrunched up her nose in despise.

"Is there something wrong with the guy?" Hadrian asked, bringing a finger to his chin. "To me, he seemed pretty nice."

"There is no 'nice' with Slughorn." Lachesis Smith sneered into her goblet. "He is a Slytherin, but a slimy kind of one. You know, the kind everyone hates not because they are presumably Dark but because they are too sneaky and cowardly to like. Like… like slugs…"

"Well, his last name kind of explains it all, don't you think?"

Hadrian's gaze drifted to the obese man with a wobbling belly and boisterous laugh, catching him in the moment when the professor was in the middle of telling a particularly funny joke and swinging his goblet around, droplets of wine spilling and falling in neighbouring professors' meals.

The anecdote didn't seem so hilarious to Slughorn's colleagues, judging by their unenthusiastic faces. Only Dumbledore played along, his wizened countenance benign and eyes twinkling.

Dumbledore always played along, as Hadrian noted, no matter what his fellow professors or students did or said.

Frankly, Hadrian felt a bit of a difficulty differentiating this magnanimous, a tad off his rocket man with the cold, aloof monster Ariana and Aberforth had made him out to be in their accounts of their childhood.

Not for the first time, the boy wondered whether he was making a mistake trusting them; he didn't have any proof whether they told him the truth or were just exceptionally good liars.

Then again, Hadrian supposed they were all subjective opinions and not absolute truth. He would do well to remember that next time they would be engaged in a conversation. From all the people he knew, only Milly was worth the implicit trust he was granting her with.

"What about Flamel? Did you see him?" Orla Montague's voice snapped Hadrian out of his reverie, and the boy flashed a quick glance in the direction of the Head Table once again.

It was occupied by only Dumbledore, Slughorn, McGonagall, and a funny-looking, almost goblin-like man, except that his cheerful expression didn't have a thing in common with that of the sour bank creatures Hadrian had seen in Gringotts.

"He isn't here now. A pity. He was so unobtrusive yesterday; had I not seen a picture of him in the Prophet, I wouldn't have recognized him at all," stated Meliflua when he saw the direction of Hadrian's gaze.

"Oh."

"He was that stocky man with a really bushy beard. Morgana, it was worse than Dumbledore's! And it was _alive! _I think I'm scarred for life." Smith let out a scandalized groan and stared at Hadrian.

Greengrass and Rosier snickered while Malfoy took a sip of pumpkin juice – a drink Hadrian had gotten accustomed to during the year spent with Aberforth who never let him drink what the Hog's Head's customers chose to.

Just as Smith engaged into a snippy conversation with Avery and Meliflua, the boy scrunched up his eyebrows together in thought, trying to remember. He had been too preoccupied with getting acquainted with his housemates to observe the Head Table.

Not to mention that Malfoy was a smooth talker, and exactly what Hadrian had envisioned the blond to be after hearing about the Malfoy family from Aberforth. The blond was an exceptional conversationalist, and while Hadrian had mostly listened like he always did, Malfoy had made him smile with his witty remarks about the Wizarding World or his Black and Rosier relatives.

"Shouldn't we get going?" Fidelis Greengrass asked lightly, directing the question mostly to Malfoy, whom he seemed to follow around a lot.

The blond frowned and, after a minute's thought, flicked his wand. Ghostly-white glaring numbers appeared in the air, and Hadrian recognized a Tempus charm.

He had been taught it by Aberforth, too, among some other things the older man had offered to teach him. They were nothing much – just some simplest charms which consumed little to no magic and which every self-respecting pureblood child would know.

Usually, the charms and hexes and jinxes, not to mention the variety of madly fascinating rituals, he read about in books were too much for his 'still developing core', as Aberforth had put it. The man, despite his love for his little sister and vengeance wishes, was actually very strict with Hadrian when the boy attempted to use more magic than necessary or spells that were too over his head.

One time, he hadn't let let Hadrian use the library for a whole month after the boy had read about the Patronus Charm and become fascinated with the idea of using it. Hadrian had had to be carted off to St. Mungo's with magical exhaustion and ingest more potions than he had taken medicines throughout his whole life.

'_Nothing in our life is fair. Just deal with it,'_ the man had said after Hadrian's uncharacteristic whine of annoyance at the unfairness when the boy wanted to explore his magical talent in detail.

"Are you going or not?"

Rosier's outstretched hand snapped Hadrian out of his small remembrance. The emerald-eyed boy attempted to grin sheepishly and grabbed the extended limb, pushing his body to get up. Rosier's face bore an irritated and haughty expression, and Hadrian could feel Malfoy's eyes drilling into him and their still intertwined hands.

"Wow. I never thought I would see Rosier being considerate," the blond boy drawled when Hadrian sneaked his hand out of the hold and looked at him in embarrassment, blush adorning his pale hollow cheeks.

"What crawled up your arse and died, Malfoy?" The curly-haired boy retorted and turned away nonchalantly, heading to their class. Malfoy did the same, and as soon as he got up, everyone else started moving, too. "You never give a damn to anyone outside you small little hole of the world consisting of yourself and your mommy."

"_Never_ say a word about my mother," Malfoy snarled, his steely silver eyes flashing with such fury it made Hadrian shudder. He noticed that he wasn't the only one – Greengrass was casually pressing his fingertips to his temples, and Meliflua along with Avery paled drastically.

Rosier wasn't affected at all.

The boy gave a large grin and a one-shouldered shrug, and his pace didn't change at all. He traded a small glance with Hadrian, and the black-haired boy even thought he had imagined him wink.

"Chill out, Lucy," Rosier threw casually, leading their entire group minus Orla Montague and Lachesis Smith, who had both been too absorbed into their spat to notice them leaving. "You know I never mean those things I say. Curse my tongue."

"Oh, don't worry. I will do exactly that." The promise in those dark words was like needles of ice stabbing into bones, and Rosier's self-confident grin waned considerably at the mistake he had made in his wording.

Malfoy took a couple of brisk strides forward, and now he was the one in the lead. It looked like a miniature power play, Hadrian reflected. Rosier threw a long stare at Malfoy's back but otherwise wasn't visibly bothered by it at all.

Now, Hadrian and the Rosier heir were on the same level, with Greengrass trailing after them looking longingly at Malfoy like a lost puppy, and others following them and conversing quietly amongst themselves.

The only ones not present were the Black girl and Severus Snape.

The silence between Rosier and Hadrian grew oppressive, and the latter was afraid he would be forced to initiate the conversation, which wasn't good at all.

True, the effects his earliest childhood had had on him had been alleviated somewhat since Milly barged into his introversive life, and they were half-way gone after the happy year spent with Aberforth, Ariana, Kamaria, and just some random people he had met in the pub and in the village itself, but…

Hadrian still wasn't much of a talker. Being friends with a shady pub-owner, a pair of zombies, and a maniacal gang leader didn't much inspire him to be all normal and outgoing.

Luckily, Rosier was the one to break the silence.

"You are very… quiet," he stated, throwing a furtive glance in Hadrian's direction. "Not at all what I would have expected from a member of the Dumbledore family."

Hadrian shrugged. He knew he would be getting a lot of that, and was mentally preparing himself. Hopefully, they wouldn't find anything strange about the story they had made up with the Dumbledore siblings and Milly.

"It might come as a surprise to you, but it's our Headmaster who is the odd one," he said simply, remembering the tales of Percival, and Kendra before her descent into madness, and Albus's grandparents, and also the occasional grave seriousness of Aberforth and Ariana.

"Huh, isn't it true?" Rosier snorted but let the subject drop anyway. They were in the dungeons by now, a very cold place with ominous shadows cast by the armors and statuesque snakes. Unlike the upper side of Hogwarts, this one wasn't overflowed with a motley pattern of moving paintings, and gave off vibes of freezing coldness.

Hadrian liked it quite a lot. The place was similar to his little mindscape, of which he hadn't even told Aberforth or Milly or Ariana about, in a way that it was just as silent and peaceful and a good place to think.

The ideal tranquility, however, to Hadrian's disappointment, was disrupted by the echoes he heard coming off from somewhere round the corner. A turn to the left confirmed that they were arriving to their classroom, and the chatty group of Gryffindors was as boisterous and rowdy as their mascot implied.

Hadrian's eyes narrowed when he took in the sight of four boys standing to a side in a tight circle, with their heads brought together and hands clasping each other's shoulder. They were obviously plotting something and, occasionally, a loud giggle or a bark of laughter would escape the circle.

The laughter was nothing nice, so Hadrian was full to the brim with suspicion. Judging by Rosier's intrigued stare in their direction, he was interested in what they were doing, too.

A boy with whom Hadrian had had a ride in the boat the night before – Shortbottom or something similar – tried in vain to stick his nose into their business, hanging around and peering into someone's shoulder. Sometimes, the curly-haired boy with striking features or the one resembling Hadrian and with glasses would raise his head and snap at the prying boy to mind his own business, but Short- no, it was actually Longbottom, Hadrian remembered it now, would simply purse his lips, take a step back, and try to gain their attention or satisfy his curiosity in another way.

Hadrian felt something nudge his side and diverted his gaze from the odd group to the conspiratorially grinning Rosier.

"Hey, Dumbledore. Do you think what I think?" he whispered directly into Hadrian's ear. It was difficult to do so while walking, so the moment didn't last long, but Hadrian felt something akin to relief when the hot breath stopped tingling his ear pleasantly.

Touches always put him on guard.

"And what could _that_ be?" He decided to play dumb. He wasn't that good at reading Rosier – the boy was too illogical for his own good, just like all the occupants of Hogwarts seemed to be.

Rosier wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, hinting at the Gryffindors they were slowly approaching.

"Don't pretend. How about we spy a bit later? I know Potter and Black. They have caused enough trouble for me to be wary of their bloody plots. If you are not careful with them, you can get quite a nasty surprise."

Rosier was whispering once again, clutching Hadrian's thin forearm so they wouldn't fall out of step. Hadrian tormented his lower lip, deeply in thought and torn between trying something exciting and staying in the comfort of his dorm.

He was meaning to pay a quick visit to Ariana and Aberforth this evening, and a glitch in his plan wasn't welcomed.

At the same time, he didn't want to become an outcast here like he had been in the orphanage; the year spent in Hogsmead with people liking him and cooing over him and being besotted with him had made the boy more receptive to negative attention, almost fearful of it.

"No one will have to know what we are doing, of course," Rosier continued nonchalantly, as if such a thing as spying was natural to him.

After what Hadrian had seen of the curly-haired Slytherin, he wondered how much truth was in that.

"Even Malfoy?" he found himself asking. Malfoy was somewhat of a leader of the House, and everyone including the upper years either respected or simply feared the influence his family had.

Rosier grimaced and turned away, his eyes lingering on the blond's proud back.

"Nah. It's not like there is a rule to report all our movements to him. Some of us may have sworn pledges but even those families are not slaves."

Hadrian flashed a hesitant glance in Malfoy's direction because somehow the idea of Malfoy not tagging along on what could be an exciting mini-adventure didn't seem right to him. He shook the thought off and fixed his attention on another word he had caught in Rosier's speech.

"Pledges?"

"Didn't you know?" Rosier asked in surprise, his eyebrows flying up to his forehead.

"A childhood with muggles, remember?" The grimace on Hadrian's face wasn't faux.

"This grime." Rosier scowled darkly at the mention of muggles, just like anyone in Slytherin apparently did. "It's no wonder than that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to cram all the information about our world into your head in a mere year or two."

Hadrian nodded and waited for Rosier to continue.

"One pureblood families can set up a contract, in which they proclaim their loyalty to a superior pureblood family in return for that family to protect theirs. The contract elaborates for how long the pledge will last and under what circumstances it may or may not be broken."

"What happens when it is broken?"

"Again, it depends on the terms represented in the contract. In some cases it is death, in others it is unimaginable torture. But it's always something grave."

Hadrian hummed and nodded thoughtfully. The notion of one's death didn't make him feel anything – being a Necromancer tended to do that to a person.

The classroom door opened, and Slughorn's merry laugh from the inside and a loud 'enter' invited the Gryffindors and the striding behind Slytherins in. The goofy group of lions threw dark glowers at the children clad in black and green robes before entering. Hadrian supposed it wasn't comfortable to have a natural enemy directly behind.

He noticed, though, a girl standing a tad apart from the rest of the Gryffindors. He recognized her from yesterday, the one holding hands with that gloomy black-haired Slytherin boy whom Hadrian hadn't seen since the Welcoming Feast.

The girl, a muggleborn judging by her lost and nervous countenance, was sneaking fleeting glimpses at their Slytherin group, just as they all settled in the spacious and dark classroom.

Hadrian wondered if she was searching for the sullen boy – her friend? – and continued watching all her tiny motions with a sort of greediness.

Noticing what he was doing, he frowned in confusion because he didn't know what in the world was affecting him so about her.

Hadrian stopped by one of the desks, not sure where to sit. He knew it shouldn't probably matter but everyone there had their friends they wanted to sit with or frenemies to banter with. It was confusing and not something Hadrian would usually pay attention to.

Rosier called him, and, relieved, the emerald-eyed boy was about to make his way to the desk in the middle of the row before his attention was snapped to Malfoy's abrupt halt and hand that sneaked its way up Hadrian's arm, and was now grabbing him almost painfully.

"I would appreciate it if you sat with me, Dumbledore," the blond drawled and dragged a confused out of his wits Hadrian to the desk in the front. The black-haired boy smiled apologetically at Rosier when they passed him, and the other boy waved it off, sitting with Smith.

Avery and Meliflua sat on a desk to Hadrian's right while Greengrass hauled Orla Montague to settle down with him directly behind Malfoy and Hadrian himself.

Snape, whom the redhead Gryffindor was so desperately searching for with her eyes, was nowhere to be found.

The doors slammed open, and the wild-eyed girl with a dark mane of thick curly hair dashed in, chortling as she did so.

"Ha! I told him I would make it on time!"

She dumped her bag on the seat next to the brute Thorfinn Rowle and shoved the things he had spread on the desk to the side.

Her robes and hair and about her entire appearance ware in disarray. It looked especially strange considering the finest material of her clothes and the striking aristocratic features.

Hadrian could hear Avery muttering something about a lack of any propriety and pureblood decorum, Meliflua agreeing with her. He personally couldn't see how it was any of their business, so decided it was just another one of those small things about girls – and Cesaire Meliflua – he would never understand.

"It seems like she was bothering Lestrange again," Malfoy mused from his right, and Hadrian turned his head to look at him. He had been so engaged in observing people around him he had completely forgotten about Malfoy!

On the other hand, Malfoy didn't look like he had forgotten about Hadrian; his eyes were watching his every smallest move with interest, and Hadrian didn't like it. He didn't like people paying such close attention to him.

"Lestrange? I reckon it's another pureblood family." Hadrian waved his hand dismissively. He had heard the name somewhere yet didn't remember the context.

Malfoy chuckled, his breathtaking silvery eyes twinkling with merriment.

"You don't want either of the Lestrange brothers referring to them as just 'another pureblood family'. They are very proud of their heritage, you see."

"Like Blacks?" _'Or like Malfoys?'_

"Not exactly," Malfoy replied and shrugged. Hadrian looked at the large clock, which displayed that there were only mere minutes left until the start of the lesson. "But they have the potential to be. Dear Bellatrix here is engaged to the elder brother. He isn't very happy with it."

Hadrian peeked at the loud, curly-haired girl who was now tittering madly and swapping insults with her, as Hadrian had found out he was, cousin Sirius. Thorfinn Rowle was helping her, and so did Evan Rosier and Lachesis Smith who had a surprisingly sharp tongue unexpected from the girl of her appearance and was vicious enough to triumph when someone fell victim to it.

Still, the other side retaliated just as well; the shouts of Sirius Black's little supporting group and Frank Longbottom and Ulrick Wood were just as deafening and spiteful.

The noise was getting on Hadrian's nerves, and he prayed Slughorn would _do_ something – the man was a teacher, for God's sake! – but judging by the way he kept looking nervously at the two scions of the Black family, Hadrian doubted he could expect anything.

'_Wouldn't want to get in their bad graces, I'm sure,'_ Hadrian thought with a bit of revulsion, which was only fuelled by the disgusting way in which the man's chins wobbled as he gulped down some liquid from his intricate flask.

His previous opinion of the man being 'nice' shattered completely.

"Cease right now!" Hadrian's head snapped to the scene behind him, and his eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched the petite red-haired girl from the earlier stand up furiously and smack all the shouting Gryffindor boys on the heads.

Considering how they winced, it was painful.

"Honestly, you are behaving like one year olds!" she continued, her hands on her hips and her delicate visage admirably fierce. Slytherins and Gryffindors alike found themselves listening. "Scratch that, it's even worse! One year olds, at least, can't be expected to have the mental capacity to understand that what they are doing is wrong."

Thorfinn Rowle opened his mouth to spout something angry, but it snapped shut when Smith's hand lay on his shoulder.

"-Should I equate you to them? Look, it's your first day, Black or however you are called. It's _my_ first day, too, and I don't want to spend the morning or, possibly, _the entire day_, listening to your family quarrels. Please refrain from making such a scene again. Or at least do it when you have some actual reason, not just because she has stolen your favourite _hairbrush _with diamond puppies engraved on it."

She swept them all with a final look, and Hadrian noted with amazement that their eyes were an equal shade of bright emerald, especially when they were angry or stressed or anguished.

He saw her own eyes widen as she realized it too but she didn't comment on it, and neither did Hadrian.

"Thanks for your attention," she said with a final huff and lowered onto her seat next to another ginger – _just how many were there in Gryffindor?_ – who immediately whispered something awed and praiseful.

"I think I might be in love with her," Hadrian heard the boy with the glasses, a Potter and possibly his relative, whisper to a member of his clique in a whisper that wasn't really one.

"Well… Umm- It was a wonderful display of your maturity-" Slughorn finally piped in, chuckling gaily and clapping himself on his wobbly belly.

"How dare a filthy mudblood order us around!" Rowle bellowed, shooting up to his feet in indignation.

Hadrian creased his eyebrows in dislike. There was something bigoted and generally unpleasant in Thorfinn Rowle that rubbed him the wrong way.

"She is nobody!" he continued, ignoring the dead silence and the glares everyone kept showering on him, including the Slytherins. The darkest glare by far came from Malfoy.

Slytherin could have a lot of points taken if that continued. Everyone looked highly upon sullying muggleborns in the safety of their common rooms but otherwise things never got pretty.

"We are better than her, and she is just a poor, filthy, untalented, disgusting mud-"

"_Rowle!_"

Malfoy's aggravated voice cut through Hadrian like a scythe and he hoped dearly he would never be the target of it. Rowle stilled and plopped down, his fearful eyes never leaving the blond's.

Malfoy tore away his desecrating gaze from him and onto the anxious professor, who had been watching the exchange with an uncertainty unacceptable for a teacher.

"I'm deeply sorry for my housemate, Professor Slughorn," Lucius Malfoy said smoothly and politely, looking every bit the pureblood heir he was. "Please do forgive us for spoiling your morning with a petty spat."

The bell rang, and Slughorn regained control of the situation, smiling as if nothing was the matter.

"Think nothing of it, my dear boy. It is understandable that fights break out between children, however sweet those children are. But, maybe, Ms Evans here would like an apology," he pointed at the now blushing under the attention girl. The flush didn't last long as she straightened out under everyone's stares and watched the scowling Rowle with cool disdain lacing her features.

She raised her eyebrow and waited patiently. Hadrian knew what Rowle had been about to spit out, and was aware that it would have gotten their House into much trouble; prejudices against muggles and muggleborns were severely punished.

… Funny, considering how the bigotry towards one's House was only encouraged.

"I- I'm…" Rowle didn't dare disobey Malfoy's forceful stare and blurted out, "Look, mu- Evans, I'm really sorry for what I've said. Let's forget it, yeah?"

She scrutinized him for a long moment and nodded, not saying anything else.

Slughorn let out a loud chuckle and clapped his meaty hands, attracting their attention to himself.

"Now that everything is settled, I would like to start our lesson-"

The door burst open and a figure stumbled out of it.

The boy clearly wore Slytherin robes, and had the same gloomy face as yesterday.

He took a step forward. Or, at least, tried to take a step forward because his legs danced instead and he stumbled some more before falling on his arse. Silence, before-

Students, mostly Gryffindors, although some particularly vicious Slytherins didn't contain a smile either, were guffawing and clutching their sides at the boy's misfortune. A Gryffindor group consisting of Potter, Black, and the fat, rat-like boy was the loudest.

The shy pushover sitting with them tried to act disapproving but was apparently hard-pressed to conceal his growing smile. Hadrian sneered at the spineless attitude.

The only one in Gryffindor who wasn't impressed with the display was that muggleborn, Evans, from before. Her emerald eyes were overflowing with worry for her friend. She tried to quell her housemates again, but this time Slughorn actually helped.

"What's going on here, my boy? How did you manage to get cursed on your first day?" Slughorn hurried to the humiliated boy on the floor, and Hadrian saw the pursed lips and the hateful glare directed at the madly guffawing quartet.

The pictures of what had been done to him when his powers had been temporarily gone and Milly had been nowhere near flashed through Hadrian's mind.

Marks from nails digging deeply into skin. Stubborn suppression of tears. Painful shoves and bruises. The hurtful name-calling. And the miserable feeling of loneliness that was his only companion during certain times.

Hadrian suddenly was aware that he could have a lot more in common with that boy that could be seen from the first sight.

"Don't laugh at him," he addressed Avery and Meliflua giggling behind him. "He is a fellow Slytherin. Don't you have a pride for your House? A compassion for your housemates"

Albeit reluctantly, they both stifled their laughter.

Hadrian could feel Malfoy's gaze boring into his side but didn't pay it any mind; he was afraid of turning because he was afraid of finding the blond disapproving of his actions.

Purebloods, especially Dark ones, always looked down on showing your weakness in public as much as they did on muddled blood. Hadrian doubted Malfoy was any different and his opinion of Snape was high.

"Here you go!" Slughorn exclaimed after flicking his wand to dispel the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

The waxen boy stood up groggily, as if unused to standing or walking. Hadrian could see his knees nearly giving in but the boy stubbornly set his jaw and kept going until he found an empty seat and dropped into it tiredly.

Slughorn, hoping there would be no more interruptions, marched up to the front of the classroom and stood imperiously, waiting for the noise and snickers to die down.

"Of course, we have all seen each other at the feast-"

'_Just how large is his ego? To be so certain that everyone would pay attention to him…' _

"-but I would still like to introduce myself. As you undoubtedly know, I am Horace Slughorn, a Potion's Master with vast experience in this field. Among my former students you can find Nerezza and Adone Zabini, whom I tutored for a few years in Italy; Miranda Vane, a fine lass who has invented the most efficient love potion – it's a pity the potion is illegal now; Regan Montague, the late son of our Minister and father of this beautiful girl here-" Slughorn winked at the coolly smiling Montague.

And so it went on and on.

The man just blabbered about the students he had had, how accomplished they were, and made it seem as if their entire success was entirely his achievement. He believed his own words so genuinely that Hadrian felt a bit guilty for not believing in this idiotical jabber.

"Are we going to get to the point? I want to get some potions brewed here!" a lazy voice called out from the Slytherin part of the classroom, and Hadrian was surprised to find that female Black was the one it belonged to.

He had only had the opportunity to hear her when the girl was chortling or tittering or shouting obscenities that made his ears burn. Now that she talked normally, her voice even had some beautiful melodious quality to it.

She was resting her head onto her propped up elbows and swinging her legs back and forth underneath her chair. She looked bored and occasionally tapped Rowle's forearm with her wand or her finger – whatever she was in the mood for.

The platinum blond boy clenched his teeth yet let her do it.

"Excuse me?" Slughorn blinked rapidly a few times. Bellatrix continued watching him and the man cleared his throat.

"Umm… Well… If you are all so eager to start practicing-"

"We are."

"-I'll write the components you will need for our first potion on the blackboard. Please, be very careful while writing it down."

"Why?" a fearful, trembling voice asked from the Gryffindor side. Hadrian immediately knew it was some muggleborn. "What will happen if we make a mistake?"

"This potion shouldn't be dangerous but it can still give a few nasty surprises if you are not careful," Slughorn explained gently, his eyes softening.

He turned around and started to write the words with his wand instead of the chalk. The letters were made up of the same smoky substance Tempus numbers consisted of.

Hadrian studiously wrote down the stages of potions, what colour it should be, and along the way Slughorn revealed some tricks to make the potions better.

Most of it was in books, so when they moved to their cauldrons – Hadrian teamed up with Malfoy for that purpose, hoping the boy would be a decent brewer – the new Dumbledore heir made sure to take his textbook with him, just to clarify some moments he was uncertain about.

He heard a few people making fun of that Snape boy for his poor, shabby clothes and second-hand book. Unfortunately, Hadrian was too far away to do anything about it.

At least, Snape's redheaded friend was there to keep the bullying down to a minimum.

Hadrian wasn't the best in the subject. Milly, despite being a muggle, was much better.

Malfoy was unsurprisingly very good, at least, and the two of them were among the first to complete the potion. It was almost flawless, albeit Slughorn pointed out the shade was a bit off – mild pink instead of fuchsia. Yet the man assured them it would work and gave them five points for their success.

Bellatrix Black had been so frustrated she couldn't get the right consistence that she threw all the ingredients, no matter whether they were chopped up or diced or fresh, right into the cauldron.

The explosion that followed wasn't pretty, and Hadrian was astounded to find the girl without a single scratch.

Of course, he found the explanation when Rowle got out of the debris, his face and arms covered in some strangele coloured boils and with tears running down his injured cheeks. Black had apparently pushed him before herself so that the boy would take the full brunt of the explosion and she would remain unharmed.

'_Sly. A bit morbid and selfish but crafty. So, she is not such a crazy idiot as I thought.'_

That day, Hadrian made a mental mark to himself to never pair up with Bellatrix Black in Potions.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy leaned in to ask him, subtly checking whether Hadrian had no splinters of wood in his body.

Hadrian didn't know why the blond cared but it made him feel warm and tingly inside. He ignored the niggling feeling that it was mere politeness.

He nodded, telling his partner not to worry, when his eye caught the sight of Snape, who was working by himself in the far corner of the classroom, seemingly unaffected by all the noise and commotion as Rowle was dragged to the medi-witch.

The potion the boy was stirring was the exact shade of fuchsia and felt like water to the touch. Hadrian immediately recognized the talent and watched as Snape bottled it up and walked up to Slughorn's table to leave it there. The potion was like a bright magenta beacon amongst the sea of reds, violets, pinks, and even blues and yellows.

"This Snape guy… He is really good at Potions, it seems," Hadrian said to Malfoy wistfully.

Aberforth was against practicing potionsmaking in the Hog's Head; customers wouldn't be happy with constant explosions and bad smell. Sometimes, Hadrian was able to get somewhere private with Milly (an abandoned building, mostly) to brew with her – and she took to some potions that didn't require magic as well as she took to chemistry – but it wasn't really enough to be proficient in the subject.

So, Snape must have had some practice and, consequently, was really at least a halfblood.

"It might be just a fluke." Malfoy shrugged and, casting a glance at the clock – they weren't allowed to cast any magic in a Potions classroom – and checking the time.

Hadrian wasn't convinced. Snape's movements were too precise and professional to be just a coincidence or an accident.

He said nothing though and gathered his things into the bag. They had only a few minutes left until the bell rang.

Lazily sweeping his gaze over the classroom, Hadrian was surprised to find some Gryffindors faring really well.

The redhead Evans had a potion of a vivid pinkish colour, albeit the consistence was a tad too thick for it to be as perfect as Snape's had been.

'_Then again,'_ Hadrian mused as he watched everyone scrambling to bottle their botched up potions and hand them to the professor. _'She is very good friends with Snape, and he is most likely a halfblood living in a muggle neughbourhood. I won't be surprised if they turned out to have been practicing magic and potions and what not together.'_

"Ready to go?" Malfoy asked him. At Hadrian's nod he strode to the door, not waiting for anyone else.

Hadrian moved to go directly after him when a hand grabbed his wrist, and the boy swirled around, still unused and not liking the idea of someone touching him.

Rosier.

"Wait for me?" Without his consent, Rosier grabbed his hand and dragged a bewildered Hadrian to the door. They were met with an irritated Malfoy.

"Why so long, Dumbledore? You told me you were read- Rosier." His voice froze.

"Stuff whatever you are about to say, Lucius. Hadrian here has promised me to do something together."

"How fascinating. And what might it be?"

We are… going on an adventure. Espionage and all that. Who knows, maybe I'll decided to be an Auror one day and need to go on undercover missions or have some spying to do?"

Both Hadrian and Malfoy regarded the Rosier heir with a skeptical stare, thought Malfoy's had a bit of a mocking edge to it.

"So? Are we going? I want to get to the lesson on time, you see."

And so Hadrian's first lesson in Hogwarts went.

It was certainly different from what he had expected.

XXX

Their next lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and everyone was so excited to see the famous Nicolas Flamel that conversations never ceased, and it was all giving Hadrian a huge headache.

Hadrian would have to take potions against those. He was used to it by now – every time he resurrected a corpse for a bit longer than necessary, he was like a vegetable at least for a day, depending on how bad he had overdone it.

He knew his self-conducted lessons were on hold now, since his core was still too unstable to manage both Necromancy training and regular spells training and some of Hadrian's own research the boy wanted to do regarding Grindelwald and any possible ways to break into Nurmengard.

It was so frustrating that in all the year Hadrian had been living in the Wizarding World, he had never once met a Necromancer.

According to Aberforth, that was not only because Necromancers were generally a secretive bunch but also because any remotely different person with an unusual talent or some creature inheritance was seen as dangerous by the Ministry and could even be forced to go through some humiliating registrations and constrictions of freedom.

Hadrian knew he would have to work hard to maintain his numerous secrets. Necromancy, Parseltongue, some killings here and there, breaking the Statue of Secrecy, transporting potions ingredients from the Wizarding World to the muggle one, the strange mindscape he had…

The Ministry would have a field day with it all.

Hadrian was sure that this all warranted a few years of Azkaban.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hardly noticed Malfoy elbowing him. Admittedly, the boy could elbow him a bit gentler.

For some reason, the blond seemed dissatisfied with Hadrian and Rosier having a secret of their own. Hadrian supposed it all had to do with his ego – Malfoy was used to having his way and always being reported to and aware of other people's dirty laundry and movements.

Then again, the most probable reason for the excessive attention Slytherins were paying to him was because Hadrian was not only a lost Dumbledore – and, additionally, Headmaster's grand nephew – but also because he was a Dumbledore in _Slytherin_.

"I wonder what he is like…" Hadrian heard Wendy Vane, the girl from the boat, trail off dreamily, her eyes staring off into space.

The boy sighed and buried his nose even further into the DADA book he had bought. Everyone around him was speculating on that, and it was getting really tiring and annoying to listen to all those ridiculous assumptions.

Luckily, the class was with Hufflepuff, so there was no more commotion other than worshipful exclamations and exchanged rumours of how great the man was, how intelligent and powerful, and what an honour it was to have him there in Hogwarts, teaching them the art of defense.

Malfoy was engaged in a small talk with Orla Montague, while Rosier hounded on some poor Hufflepuff muggleborn, causing the boy to wail and bury his head into his arms, his shoulders shaking.

Hadrian shook his head but said nothing. It was one thing to defend Snape – who was still enraptured in his Potions book and probably the only person other than Hadrian to not give any mind to the gossiping idiots around – but being deemed a muggle-lover and muggle-defender was completely different.

He knew that in Slytherin it would get him into deep trouble of a serious kind, considering how many students of respected and influential bloodlines got there.

Hadrian didn't want it. He, no matter how weak the thoughts made him fee, wanted to have some friends of his own age for once. Human friends.

He saw Huang Chang flashing him a tiny smile from his desk shared with one of the Bones twins, the male one and brown-haired. Hadrian returned it with a quirk of lips just as small.

The Chang family, albeit a Light one, was still a pureblood line. Thus, it wouldn't be frowned upon for Hadrian and the dark violet-haired boy to talk or get together sometimes.

Hadrian found himself looking forward to spending some time with Chang. The boy looked very smart and there was a hidden core of steel lurking beneath the quiet visage.

The emerald-eyed boy twirled a lock of his raven hair as he wondered how that one had made it into Hufflepuff.

Done with watching people, Hadrian took in the classroom they were in.

It was very spacious, just like all the rooms in the castle were. The colours were cold, mostly various shades of blues and greens, and even some purples. There was a lot of space between the desks, making everyone either walk to the person they wanted to talk to or shout throughout the expanses of the classroom.

From the positions of the desks, and some defensive runes he could make out which didn't permit the curses or hexes injure anyone outside of the small premises of the certain areas around their desks, Hadrian surmised they would get some practice in pairs done.

There was also a rather large podium in the front of the classroom, on which the boy was sure they would be shown spells and maybe even duel – the thought made him tremble with anticipation.

Hadrian was very surprised that there was no blackboard. How was the teacher supposed to relay the material if he couldn't write down the most essential points?

Just when it was time for the lesson to start, Nicolas Flamel swept into the classroom, clad in dark grey robes.

His beard was indeed very… um, thick. It enveloped him almost like a cocoon – it was actually that long and bushy! Hadrian could hear Meliflua's unimpressed scoff at the lack of style and someone's timid supposition as to how the man was able to freely walk.

Flamel stepped onto the podium and there was some kind of silent strength in his hunched yet impressive figure and stern gaze. His eyebrows were so bushy it was difficult to make out the emotions in his eyes.

"There will be no fooling around in my class," he began quietly. Everyone leaned in at the soft voice unexpected of a man of such imposing stature. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is a dangerous subject, and I won't be hearing Albus whining about his students getting themselves killed."

Slytherins sneered as many Hufflepuffs shivered at the ominous promise. Only Huang Chang and Edgar Bones didn't seem fazed, as well as a brown-haired lady-like girl sitting next to Vane.

"There will be silence when I talk, and anyone uttering a single word will have to be the practice dummy for the rest of the lesson."

Even Hadrian gulped at that. The idea wasn't pleasant. He was lucky he preferred to listen rather than talk.

"As some of the purebloods could see from the basic runes on the desks, there will be practice. Lots of it. I know about the curse placed on my position, and don't wasn't to leave you unprepared for when another teacher takes my place next year."

'_The curse?_' Hadrian was madly curious but knew better than to vocalize it.

"I will expect you to have read the theory by the time my lessons come. Here, we shall only practice. First, it will be in pairs. There is enough place for you between the desks, and due to the runes, the spells won't leave the shield that will be activated around them every time. The shields will enable me to see everyone but will forbid you from seeing how the other pairs work. You will concentrate only on yourself and your partner."

The man paused before taking a breath and continuing. His voice was as soft as in the beginning of his speech. No one dared interrupt him.

"The second part of our lessons will be conducted here on this stage." He motioned to the podium he was standing on. "Now, you are first-years, so I don't expect you to do much. However, by the end of the year, if you show enough commitment, we could start some dueling, both single and group. I don't know who your teacher will be next year, so I can't say whether this practice continues."

His eyes bore into everyone and the level of intimidation the man caused was terrific.

"Any questions?"

Hesitantly, a muggleborn with light brown hair and eyes of equal shade raised a hand.

"Um… You are an alchemist, right? From what I've heard, you must be. And isn't Alchemy connected with Potions? Why did you decide to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Some of the Slytherins sneered at the question, as if they knew the answer. Come to think about it, Hadrian remembered someone mentioning something in this regard, but the memory was hazy.

"What is your name?" Flamel demanded.

"Lane Hubbard." The boy blushed a bit at being singled out.

"Tell me, what is the most important thing in Potions?"

"Umm… Maybe, it's ingredients?"

"Stirring at the right time?" Malfoy proposed.

"Knowing how to combine certain elements?" Chang asked.

"No." Their professor knitted his eyebrows. "You are thinking it all wrong."

"Precision," Snape whispered quietly. Despite the softness of the word, Flamel's head snapped to him.

"Right. You are-"

"Severus Snape." Now everyone was looking at the sullen boy. The attention was almost oppressive, especially considering some people's sneers at his poor clothing.

"Severus Snape here has said it. A smallest mistake in dicing or slicing an ingredient can lead to a potion gone awry. Just like a misaimed spell can hit your alley or lose you vital seconds in a battle. A person who has precision usually succeeds in both the art of battle and in the art of potionsmaking. This time, however, I am to teach you the former."

And so it went on.

The man told them he wouldn't write the main points on the blackboard – they were to read the material by themselves and figure out the fundamental aspects without his help.

He did, however, spend the first lesson describing what topics they would discuss this year, and what additional material to read, and how to intertwine classic Duelling with Transfiguration and small charms and even some potions.

"Never underestimate the power of potions," he said sternly, and everyone present knew to heed his words. "Someday, they could save your life better than spells do."

They all were hurrying to write down the lists of additional literature and some small tricks he was talking about but mainly they just listened. Flamel had mentioned being a Duelling Champion in his early years, long time before he entertained the idea of the Philosopher's Stone. There was no bravado in his words, simply knowledge and acceptance of what he was.

Hadrian liked him. He was certain their Defense lessons would be a delight.

XXX

The rest of the day came by in a flash.

After grabbing some quick bites to eat, they went to the History of Magic, which was an utter rubbish. The teacher was a ghost who droned on and on continuously, not sparing any attention to their question or off-topic talks.

Hadrian entertained himself with reading some of his DADA books while Malfoy had his eyes trained on some Potions treatise. Rosier tried to engage Hadrian in some talk, but the emerald-eyed boy was too tired of socializing and eventually tuned him out.

When Rosier realized this, he huffed, reminded Hadrian of their plan to spy on the four Gryffindors sometime, and turned to Avery and Meliflua so they could have another spat regarding his manners – or lack thereof.

After the extremely boring lesson, Hadrian wanted to go to the Room of Requirement or find some secluded place to talk to Kamaria.

Alas, it wasn't to happen. Slytherins immediately surrounded him and dragged him to the common room to drink some butter beer and eat admittedly delicious home-made cookies.

They didn't release him until the very late evening, and by that time Hadrian was so tired with revising the material for Herbology tomorrow that he was in no condition to walk somewhere or to risk getting sleepy or being in mild pain for the next day due to overexercising his Necromantic abilities.

He fell asleep as soon as his head dropped on his pillow.

XXX

**Important!** Would you like chapters shorter but approximately once a week or longer but once two weeks? It doesn't really make a difference to me but it could to you.

Next chapter will have some change of POV (what an AU fic it could be without our dear Headmaster's point of view?) and more Marauders :)


	9. Notice

Hello! Before you start hurling rotting tomatoes at me for not updating, I have to say that new chapters won't come until the second week of September.

I have been in Italy for quite a while and will return only on September, 3d. This year, I also start university in a different, larger city, where I don't know anything. I'll need a couple of days to adapt to this new development and the strain (my major is International Communications, and in addition to English I chose to study Italian and French, the latter completely from scratch). And it's a bit uncertain when exactly Internet connection will be available.

Initially, my idea had been to write in Italy and obediently draw out a chapter a week, but the family that hosts me are horrified for my eyesight whenever they see me in front of a computer for more than half an hour. The only reason I could write this notice is because of my birthday a couple of days ago, on which there were too many things to do for me rather than surf the net.

My lack of time on the net also prevents me from answering all your recent reviews, so I'll get to it after coming back.

On the bright side, there are still my notebooks. I'm through with Harry and Tom's third year in "When Lies Turn into Truth" and Hadrian's first year in "From the Depths of Darkness". Moreover, there are a couple of oneshots and side projects which I develop when particularly bored and only a piece of paper to write on. The only thing is to type them out and check for some small discordances, since a printed edition of hp-lexicon hasn't been created yet.

So, once I start updating, there will be at least one chapter a week for any of my fics. At first, my intention was to upload everything I've written almost at once, but then I thought it'd be better if a batch of chapters is ready just in case. So, please bear with me until then.

This notice will be deleted when a real chapter is posted.

With regards,

Vallory Russups/Forgotten Juliett


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary:** Harry ends up being thrown out of the Dursleys household. Because of a Death Eater he gets sent back in time. How does his relationship with his parents and the people around him progress with the war around them? Necromancer!Harry. Slash

**Pairings:** Harry/multi, but the main pairings are HPLV and HPLM. Others are still undecided.

**Disclaimer:** don't own Harry Potter or any canon characters. The characters you don't recognize are probably mine as well as the plot.

**A/n: Hello everyone! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, they mean a lot to me! In November, the chapters will be long but twice a week, and after November, they will be still long and once a week. Yes, strange, I know. For my exact writing schedule and the reason why the hell I haven't updated up to this time, please see my profile :) **

**Chapter 9. Secret Meetings**

"When will you stop watching the boy like a hawk and _talk_ to him?"

Albus Dumbledore rubbed the nape of his neck and diverted his attention from a certain long-haired boy sitting at the Slytherin table. His heavy gaze fell on the Deputy Headmistress.

"Minerva, you know that I can't," he said and shook his head remorsefully. The woman's lips thinned and she took a cup of tea in her hands to take a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure as she inhaled.

"You will never find out what happened until you talk to him," Minerva reasoned after setting her cup back on the table again. "Or talk to Aberforth. And, oh dear Merlin, I don't think this is an option after what transpired between you."

"No, it isn't," Albus breathed out and stared at Hadrian Dumbledore, trying to find traces of Aberforth's boyish looks. The boy's petit stature and high cheekbones didn't tell of the Dumbledore's trademark features – he looked more like a Potter, if anything – yet some of his features struck Albus as familiar, the ones he would see every day he stared at the childhood photograph of his happy family.

"So, will you talk to him?" Minerva demanded once more. This time Albus had to suppress a sigh. He knew that a show of aggravation would be pointless, so he settled on smiling at her patiently instead.

The smile worked and the Transfiguration Professor blushed and turned away. Her crush on him hadn't dimmed throughout the years they had spent living in the same castle. The woman remained her teenaged counterpart when matters concerned Albus, and the man was glad that neither his wrinkled skin nor his greying hair put her off.

"Someday," Albus replied to her question.

"I hope this day happens _before_ I am old and in a rocking chair."

"My, I think you'll never be in a rocking chair, Minerva." Albus chuckled and watched the Slytherin group including Hadrian Dumbledore and the Rosier and Malfoy heirs leave the Hall. "Why are you so intent on mending our supposed relationship? You usually prefer to put some distance between yourself and your students."

Minerva's gaze softened and a tiny smile smoothed out the stern lines of her face.

"I like seeing families reunite. I'm just asking you to consider it, Albus. I am the only one on the stuff who knows your relationship with Aberforth and the misfortunes that befell on your family-"

"Only because you eavesdropped." Albus couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice.

"I was a child," she said in amusement. "I didn't understand half of it at the time. Besides, you never told me the whole truth. How did your mother and sister die? And why is Aberforth blaming you? He also told something about the Dark Lord. Who was he-"

"Minerva," Albus chided gently, and the woman's mouth snapped shut. Awkwardly, she placed her hand on his forearm.

"I apologise," Minerva said, her eyes shifting to the Gryffindor table. "I would be so happy if only my parents and brother weren't killed in that fateful Grindelwald's attack..."

"I don't hold it against you, Minerva. I was going to talk to young Hadrian. I just don't know how to set this up. Knowing Aberforth, he is bound to have said some things about me that would make you shiver."

"What a liar!" Minerva exclaimed indignantly and her lips pressed together. Albus hid a smile. A sad one. "I'm certain you are too noble to do any heinous crime he must be accusing you of."

"You flatter me, Minerva."Albus shook his head and gazed at the intricate goblet filled with spring water. Spring water was said to have some rejuvenating effects and he was going to need all the time he had to make up for his mistakes. "Believe me when I say that my brother has more insight and more sagacity than he is given credit for. Being the owner of a dodgy pub doesn't take away his intelligence, I fear."

A comfortable silence fell on them. Students were stumbling into the Great Hall with owlish eyes and mussed hair. The lessons started in half an hour, so most of them rushed to get a bite before they were whirled into the everyday routine.

"I will meet with young Hadrian by the end of the year," Albus said quietly, his eyes showing the accumulated burden of his many years. At the sound of his voice, Minerva fleeted him a glance.

"Are you sure you want to wait this long, Albus? Aberforth might be setting him agai-"

"Give the old man this luxury of choice," Albus cut her off. His fingers fiddled with his beard and Minerva's eyes followed the motion. "I have to decide what exactly to tell him and how to tell it. What questions to ask and what questions to be ready to answer. All of this needs time. Meanwhile, I'll be watching him."

Minerva stared at him for a long minute before nodding sharply and standing up. Slughorn yelped when her hand accidentally collided with his shoulder. The imperious woman ignored the disgruntled mutterings.

"I want to see you happy, Albus. You deserve it, more than anyone. If this boy is what you need to move on and dim the old pain, I will do everything to bring you two together."

Minerva flashed him a determined smile and smirked at Albus's widened eyes. With a few greetings to Pomona Sprout and Professor Sinistra, she marched out of the Great Hall, leaving Albus to stare after her.

What a strong woman.

"Want some turkey?" Slughorn asked helpfully, pushing the plate to Albus and successfully pulling the man out of his reverie.

"Thank you, Horace," Albus said and pushed the plate a bit away from him, choosing to eat some bacon and eggs. A smile without a trace of sadness or weariness was playing on his face and, suddenly, the world shone brightly, making Albus throw out of his consciousness the overwhelming weight of guilty memories, the disturbing news from one of his Ministry spies, the deaths of muggleborns a few days before...

This mystery of a boy was a gift bestowed upon him.

A chance to repair his broken family. Albus wouldn't let it go, no matter what.

He dug into his breakfast with much gusto and his humming was happier than it had ever been.

XXX

This evening was going to be special, Hadrian reflected.

He had been waiting till midnight for his housemates to fall asleep, and his patience had finally born its fruit. The tip of his wand shining with a Lumos, Hadrian carefully slipped out of his bed. He strained his ears for any noise that wasn't Rowle's sound snoring, or Meliflua's constant sneezing, but there wasn't any. Hadrian sighed in relief. Path clear.

His bottom lip nibbled on by his teeth, the boy put effort into walking as silently as he could, carefully sidestepping the clothes and small objects strewn across the floor. He almost cursed when his feet tripped on a trickily-lying book, and wondered if someone had placed it on purpose, to discover any restless students like Hadrian himself. He had a hunch Rosier could think of something of the kind.

He held his breath.

A few semi-mumbles stopped him in his tracks, and a particularly loud sneeze rivalled only Snape's sudden violent coughs that cut through the darkness of the room with razor blade sharpness. Harry flinched, but kept walking. Never once had the way from his bed to the door seemed so long yet exciting, almost like an adventure.

Adventure... The boy threw a glance at the curtains, behind which Rosier slept. They hadn't had the chance to talk over this spying madness the pureblood had proposed, and Hadrian had – in a bout of insanity, most likely – accepted.

Finally getting to the door, Hadrian breathed freely.

He couldn't suppress the urge to look back at his fellow Slytherins.

Greengrass's curtains were open, and Hadrian could see the boy's scrawny figure sprawled out on the bed, belly down and a leg escaping the confines of the bed. The blanket was lying on the floor, long forgotten in the wake of the wet hotness reigning in the dorms. Hadrian mentally made a note to mention it to the prefects, so that the older students could fix the temperature.

Rowle was lying on the very edge of his bed, his snores grating and loud. Hadrian squelched the sudden whim to walk to the boy and throw him off the bed.

'No need to bother. He might be doing just that himself soon,' Hadrian thought to himself, which didn't stop him from a vindictive light Tickling Charm in the boy's direction.

The platinum blond snorted in his sleep and edged closer to the bed's border. He would fall in a few minutes, Hadrian knew.

And he didn't want to be there when _that_ happened. The noise might wake the others up, which Hadrian truly didn't need at the moment.

Sighing, he pushed the door and stepped out.

XXX

If Hogwarts was beautiful in the light of the day, it couldn't compare with the marvellous allure it radiated at night.

Hadrian strolled through the shadowed corridors, his admiring gaze roving over the intricate ornaments on the walls and the ceilings, impressed by the powerful beauty of them. The moon shone brightly through the vintage windows and shed light on the patterned floor. The only thing piercing the stillness of the castle was the quiet snoring of the painting, or the rare sophisticated talks of passing ghosts.

He closed his eyes in marvel.

A small smile playing on his lips, Hadrian stalked through the castle with a clear purpose in mind. To get to the Room of Requirement.

As much as the loss of sleep disgruntled him, the longing to see Aberforth, the man Hadrian willed himself not to trust too much yet went back on this promise again and again, burned in his soul too powerfully to ignore. Determination forcing his step, Hadrian accelerated his pace. The wonders of the castle could wait. The time... not so much.

So hurried the boy was, that he didn't notice a long mewl until it was too late.

Whirling around, his eyes caught the nasty Mrs. Norris, the pet cat of their equally horrendous Hogwarts caretaker Filch, a man whose character was as dark as his teeth (the ones that he still had, of course).

"Bloody-!" Not wasting another minute, Hadrian took off. Student robes billowing around him, he ran as fast as he could, as if wild hippogriffs were chasing him. He didn't stop to check if Filch had arrived and was now following him, or if he had lucked out and Mrs. Norris had lost his track.

Out of breath, he halted before one of Hogwart's many moving staircases, and violently prayed for it to float his way, his eyes begging and hands folded in a prayer.

Fat chance.

As if mocking him, the stairs moved away from him, to the other side of the huge gap between himself and the next set of chequered floor tiles. Hadrian cursed. Then repeated it. When he felt perspiration break out on his forehead, he wiped at it with his hand, but it did nothing to get him away from his dilemma. Panicked green eyes were drifting from the taunting flight of stairs on the other side of the corridor, and to the yet empty hallway. Hadrian knew it wouldn't rest empty for long.

A mewl. Then, the familiar shuffling and wheezing.

"Aye, my dear," muttered the school caretaker, his tone of voice bearing a malicious hint. The dim light of a lantern the man was holding cast its bobbing light onto the walls. "Ain't we going to catch those filthy little beasts this time? The first week into school, and there are already dung bombs everywhere! Just you wait, I will catch you all, I will."

Panic gripping his chest, Hadrian muttered a Wingardium Leviosa and flung an armour's head off its shoulders. It fell onto the floor with a crash reverberating throughout the hallway. As quickly as he could, Hadrian ran to the head and sent it flying hard in Filch's direction.

"A-ha!" The old man's triumph didn't last long. Only up to the moment the head met the fragile kneecaps.

Hearing annoyed cussing in an unmistakeable voice, Hadrian made his decision.

He jumped.

He screwed his eyes shut and hoped to any deity existing that something would break the fall, or that the falling sensation wouldn't last for too long. His arm met sharp pain, and he felt as a person skinned alive. He couldn't hold back a scream, though it didn't matter anymore, considering Filch was now a couple of floors above Hadrian.

Through the haze of pain, Hadrian quickly deduced that the red hot graze running down his arm came from a doorstep. He grappled for a piece of solidness. His fingers snatched the border of a floor, halting the bizarre fall.

Relief.

For a second, Hadrian feared opening his eyes to see where this plunge had brought him to. His only wish was to remain hanging there, in a semblance of peace and quiet. He stayed where he was for a few more moments, wary of moving just in case. His hearing searched for any resemblance of a human or cat sound, and more than anything he was afraid that this entire quandary was for nothing and that Filch would find him anyway.

'But I can't spend here all the night,' Hadrian reasoned with himself and willed his body to stop being a hanging lump and shift.

A journey starts with a step, so the boy first took a deep breath and proceeded to grip the floor border with his other hand, the injured one.

A wrong move, it seemed.

His arm moaned with piercing pain, making Hadrian groan with it. He hissed loudly. Ignoring the tears gathered at the corners of the tightly clenched eyes, the boy forced himself to go on and push himself up. He ignored the drops of blood falling onto his cheeks as he struggled to climb up the border. He disregarded the tiredness that weighted down on his body all of a sudden. He couldn't bear look at the horrific image of his left hand. He knew it could scar if not treated in the nearest future.

His own hot, shuddering breaths was all Hadrian heard and concentrated on.

Gasping out, he thrust his body upwards and scrambled to his feet. He stood in the dead silence of yet another corridor, back hunched and shoulders shaking, and couldn't stop trembling. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, no matter how much Hadrian was aware of how pitifully lost he looked. Slowly raising his right hand to his racing heart, the boy blinked off the pain and listened to the irregular, drums-loud beats.

Could he hope this evening's misfortunes would end?

No.

Once again, his ears caught a vague sound. Hadrian dashed to an alcove, eyes wide and hair in disarray, the green ribbon tying it lost sometime during the getaway from Filch. The boy made himself as small as physically possible, drawing in his shoulders and hugging his knobbly knees tightly to his narrow chest. He held his breath. Now, to wait.

The strolling steps were getting louder. There were two sets of feet, Hadrian figured out.

"You were right in going to me with this problem," a calm voice praised. Hadrian held back a gasp, realising who the man was. "As the headmaster, I have all the means to help you deal with this."

"Really?" the boy – and judging by his speech, the other person talking _had_ to be a boy – asked timidly, hopefully.

Hadrian could hear a smile in Albus Dumbledore's reply.

"Of course! Magic is a wonderful thing, isn't it? So potent, so varied... Although I have to disappoint you that no cure has been found-"

"Oh." Defeat.

"-we can minimise the damage dealt to other people if you follow my advice every time the beast within you rears its ugly head." Dumbledore's voice flowed from gentle into demanding.

Hadrian wanted to see the faces of the people talking especially of this unknown boy, who sounded vaguely familiar but not nearly enough for him to recognise. The curiosity shone in the green eyes, and Hadrian's head was leaning as close to the edge as he could make it without the motion being too obvious or the tuft of black visible.

"Every month?"

"Every month," the Headmaster agreed benignly. "Lemon drop?" The unknown boy didn't reply. The next sound Hadrian heard was loud crunching and a happy sigh.

"This tree..." the boy began hesitantly after a short pause. "Where we are going to... Was it planted especially for me?"

"Yes, my boy. You, after all, are the first werewolf to ever attend Hogwarts. In all the years of my working here, of course."

Hadrian clutched his mouth to keep a gasp from escaping.

A _werewolf_! Was Dumbledore bloody insane? To let a creature known for its violent and volatile nature be brought to the castle full of children – rare magical children, how his Slytherin classmates would add – and have the nerve to walk around as if it was all normal...

Now, Hadrian couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

'It is for a reason,' he convinced himself, ready to clutch the angle with his fingers and sneak a few looks at the mysterious boy. 'I should know what's there to protect myself from in this castle. Besides, I might use this information to my advantage someday.'

Covertly, he pushed himself forward and stuck out his head. Hadrian snitched a glance at the boy's face first, but it was covered by the oppressive shadows cast by the metal armours. As expected, the colours on the boy's robes were not green but red and golden, clearly betraying a Gryffindor in him.

Hadrian supposed the Gryffindor was lucky he didn't give a damn about Houses, otherwise the Slytherin would have immediately run to his housemates to share this piece of furry gossip.

Shaking his head, Hadrian scrunched his eyes to look deeper into the dark.

Dumbledore had donned on a most extraordinary set of spotted vibrant red and purple robes that would have made Meliflua kill himself, along with golden pointed boots and a brightly shining medallion hung on his neck. His face wrinkled in an amused smile when the boy tripped and mumbled an apology for grabbing the Headmaster's robes.

"No damage done," the man said kindly, bright blue eyes – so familiar that Hadrian's chest tightened - twinkling. He placed his lined hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder to keep him from tripping again.

Having made sure that the boy wasn't hurt, the Headmaster resumed his pace. The Gryffindor did not.

"Is something the matter?" Dumbledore asked in puzzlement, stopping and turning his head around. Hadrian could see the man's forehead crease, and the Gryffindor nibbling on his lips, but it was too dark for him to see the two figures in all clarity.

"Is it truly all right for me to be here, at Hogwarts?" the Gryffindor boy asked, timidly revealing the cause of his worry. His voice was soft and still high-pitched, as it hadn't begun breaking yet. "You know that I might hurt others in the full moon-rage. I might tear their limbs apart. Even devour them, if that's what the monster inside me wishes to do. I might damage them in another way, milder but hurtful no less. You don't know what you are getting into when you let me in. I _can_ do all the things I've listed. I have already done them, sir."

An intense shudder run down Hadrian's spine. A fear, unlike anything he had ever experienced, clutched his fluttering heart.

Was it really what monsters did? What beasts like werewolves were born to do, craved for?

In this very moment, Hadrian resolved to train himself as hard as he could, not for Aberforth's cause of killing Grindelwald, not for resurrecting Ariana for good, not for his and Milly's good life with all the luxuries in it, but simply to survive. He simply couldn't believe that someone would be insane enough to let a creature this Dark roam the halls of Hogwarts, disguised as a normal student but ready to stab its claws into the first innocuous victim it met.

'If even Hogwarts, the place deemed the safest of all, has become so unsafe, then I must grow stronger and be my own safe heaven. If no one dares to challenge me any longer, only then can I truly relax and simply live, without any worries, with Aberforth, and Milly, and Ariana, and Kamaria by my side.'

He might be overreacting. After all, with all the creatures in the Forbidden Forest; with all the fabled Dark wizards, deranged enough to conduct horrific experiments on their victims, and kill, and maim, and torture; with Grindelwald waiting for the end of times in his former citadel of glory but now a simple prison; with the dodgy contingent of Aberforth's pub, Hadrian should have seen already the dangers of the Wizarding kind...

But in reality, all of these had been nothing more than faraway possibilities that didn't touch upon his personal life in any way. The tales told by a tired mother to a child refusing to sleep without some story time.

Now that the hazard was so near and so frighteningly tangible, Hadrian couldn't rest until he was secure in his magical prowess.

Decision made, Hadrian concentrated on Dumbledore's reply to the werewolf.

"I understand that the grief of murder cannot be easily forgotten, especially in your age," the man murmured, his voice almost a whisper and eyes no longer twinkling, having lost their playfulness and amusement. Hadrian realised that the old man was reviving the memories of old times in his head, losing the touch with reality in this absorption with the memories. "This guilt that plagues you might very well never be forgotten or stomped on. But you are not a monster until you let yourself become so."

"How can you tell for sure?" the Gryffindor blurted out. Then, he sniffled and hunched his shoulders. Hadrian could see them shaking, but no emotion could seep through his resolution not to trust a werewolf. "I have already killed once." The voice quivered and broke on the last note. "And you said yourself that I am the first werewolf to ever attend Hogwarts."

"The first werewolf," the man agreed calmly, walking over to the crying boy and resting his hands on both shoulders, which were still trembling with each sob. "I never called you monster. And of those, there have been in Hogwarts plenty. I knew a boy once. He was born a hundred-percent human, yet let himself turn into a fiend over the course of time. You see? It is not what a person is born as that defines him, but what choices a person makes in his life."

Heavy silence fell. Hadrian mulled over the words, just as the werewolf boy probably did. Now, the Slytherin felt a little guilty for the hatred that had sprouted in him after discovering the other boy's condition, but the fact didn't diminish his determination to make the best of him and to keep himself safe by acquiring as vast knowledge as he could.

Knowledge of Necromancy, of potions, rituals, spells, duelling, Transfiguration, charms... Knowledge of magic, Hadrian supposed. He couldn't pick a single brunch; all of the areas fascinated and attracted him, each in its own way.

"So, I can be as normal as anyone else?" In his words, Hadrian could read a desperate desire to believe, almost a silent plea for the old man to agree.

Dumbledore's face bloomed and he nodded a few times in encouragement. "This, and more." After one last smile, the Headmaster released the shoulders and stepped back, as if admiring his handiwork.

"Thank you, sir," the Gryffindor whispered, so quietly that Hadrian had difficulties catching the sound. He wouldn't even strain his ears for it if he hadn't seen pale lips moving.

"What for? I haven't done anything outside of my duty."

"For making me believe I can still be human."

"Of course you are!" Dumbledore showed surprise on his face. "As blessed with intelligence as I am, I still haven't learned to talk to animals."

A fragile smile broke out on the Gryffindor's face and he stepped out of the armours' shadows, closer to the candlelight and the Headmaster. Hadrian stretched his neck to see the boy's identity, the risk of getting caught long forgotten in his fascination with the conversation.

The Slytherin's jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw who the werewolf was. For there, just a few feet away, stood the boy Hadrian had often seen with Potter and Black, the same sickly looking and amber-eyed boy who gave gentle impression and didn't look like he could hurt a fly.

'I have always heard that appearances are deceptive. But to this point...'

Hadrian blinked a few times, trying to dispel what he thought was a feat of imagination, but certainly not the real thing.

No luck here. No matter how much he blinked, or shook his head, the boy was still walking to the old Headmaster with the same shy, gentle smile and crinkled eyes.

'Doesn't it prove Dumbledore's words, then?' his mind whispered to him as Hadrian followed the pair with his green, thoughtful, if still a little astounded, gaze. 'That exterior appearance doesn't matter. Only what you truly are does.'

Hadrian shrugged lightly. It didn't matter now. He would go to Aberforth and demand for books on battle magic, not the silly booklets with tickling charms he had had to read out of desperation. He wanted... to learn something unusual. Something no one else could do. Necromancy didn't count because it was a native talent, one that didn't require hours of intensive training just to have it. Besides, even training didn't help Hadrian much.

The more he used this talent, the more he grew convinced that he didn't do it right.

At first, on this faithful day at the long-forgotten graveyard a year ago, it all started with headaches. He could remember the black spots dancing in his eyes and the weighting dizziness, and those hadn't gone away. With time though, Hadrian found the pains in his head changing in intensity and quality.

If initially his magic supported both Kamaria and Ariana without much effort and for quite long periods of time – Hadrian sighed wistfully at the good times – now it had become a chore to hold one of them up for more time, and the headaches always ended in losses of consciousness and magic exhausted for some time afterwards. Sometimes, he had difficulty breathing. And he shuddered every time he remembered the choking sounds his throat had made, and the oppressive feeling of helplessness, when he couldn't draw in a breath after a particularly long session of his secret Necromancy training.

He hadn't told Aberforth any of this.

Or Milly, or Ariana, or Kamaria, for that matter. The snake had only hummed and offered him to eat a mouse and stop bothering her with "annoying human whining". Hadrian had complied and hadn't disclosed to anyone what was happening to him.

'Maybe I should. Someday. Certainly not today. This night I am too tired to tolerate Aberforth's angry preaching.'

Hadrian's eyesight caught a dead fly lying all forgotten on the cold floor. An idea lit up his mind and he spread out his arm to scoop the insect up to experiment on it, when the pain he hadn't focused on awakened with renewed force.

"Argh!" Hadrian's face scrunched up in pain and he bent down, even closer to the floor than he had been. He clutched his wounded arm, biting back a howl of pain, the one that would have been as wild as the Gryffindor wolf's must be during full moons.

When his fingers released the hand, the smudges of blood didn't surprise him.

Angrily, he swiped away the beginnings of the tears in his eyes, and willed himself to stand up and walk. The danger had passed. Filch must have returned to do his rounds on the first floor already, and Hadrian, from what he had figured out, must be on the fifth.

The question was, what Hadrian wanted to do more.

He had to get his arm injury treated, not only because it continued to send the prickles of pain, but also because he could get an infection in at any given time. Normally, Madame Pomphry would have been the best choice... But not in the middle of the night. As kind as she allegedly was, the woman would be reporting this to the Headmaster, and Hadrian didn't want to risk seeing the man. Especially considering that Dumbledore could easily deduce that Hadrian had spied in on what should have been a secret – probably even life-changing, for the werewolf – conversation.

Hadrian wavered between one unpleasant set of circumstances and another. He stalked out of the alcove. To the left was a _normal _staircase, not moving, not exploding, not vanishing, not changing in any way, and leading to the seventh corridor and the Room of Requirement. To the right, was the shortest way to the mediwitch who would patch him up.

The wish to see Aberforth battled away all the selfish thoughts Hadrian had.

The injury, while unpleasantly looking and bloody, was mostly shallow, as he had grazed off the skin, but the damage hadn't gone deeper than that. Add to that his belief in Ariana's healing abilities she had slowly been developing for a year...

He made his choice.

Struggling to regain his bearings, Hadrian staggered in the direction of the seventh floor once more.

XXX

'I want to get to the Hog's Head,' Hadrian chanted in his head, pacing three times in front of the blank wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry. 'I want to get to the Hog's Head. I want to get to the Hog's Head.'

When the last word fell from his lips, Hadrian opened his startlingly green eyes, and was met with the door slowly constructing itself out of thin air.

Lips stretched in a victorious smirk, Hadrian walked to the entrance to the Room of Requirement. He swung the doors open, forgetting all about the pain in his arm as excitement built up inside him.

His eyes met the picture of a large, almost abnormally so, room with plenty of uncluttered space, clean, and dark, and silent. Everything according to his wishes. As soon as he entered, he searched for a familiar portrait framed with gold. Finding it fast, Hadrian walked up to it and raised his hand to gently trace Ariana's painted cheek. She smiled at him in response.

"Take me to Aberforth," Hadrian murmured. He knew that this imitation wasn't aware of who he was in the least. This was only a portrait, fated to rest unchanged throughout many years, as long as Hogwarts herself proudly stood over the Great Lake.

The portrait nodded at him and complied. In fascination, Hadrian stepped right into the painting, a feat not believed to be possible by any witch or wizard. And shouldn't have been possible, unless the painter's talent was exceptional and reached far enough into the realms of the dead and of the inanimate objects to make that happen. For a brief second, Hadrian marvelled at the possibilities that magic gave its users, possibilities dangerous and often horror-striking, but great.

Hadrian walked through the tunnel.

His feet clanked against the ground, the sound echoing through the entire passageway. The road promised to be a long one, but at least it was straight and he didn't need to worry about taking a wrong turn or missing it. Moreover, Ariana silently led him to where her brother was. Her presence, not that Hadrian would admit it to the real deal, soothed his worries about getting lost or things going wrong.

The pain in his hand had reduced to occasional dull reminders, and wasn't nearly as piercing as in the beginning, when he had unwittingly induced it on himself. The dried specks of blood on his right hand, the one he had used to clutch the injury, bothered him a bit because the boy could neither wipe at his forehead nor do anything else without cleaning it first.

Hadrian threw a glare at the wand in the holster. If only he knew how to use this stick, he would have magically cleansed or vanished the dried blood that covered his fingers like dirt rather than life liquid. Alas, no such luck.

Hadrian was thrown out of his musings when his head collided with a hard object.

"Ouch," he muttered and rubbed his forehead. Realising he had arrived, Hadrian felt anticipation fill him to the brim. How was Aberforth going to react to this unexpected visit? Was he going to be happy? Disgruntled? Surprised?

Not willing to wait anymore, Hadrian pushed the door open and squeaked when his foot met only air and he fell down, the humiliation only accentuated by the loud crash that followed. A glass fell off the drawer and shattered.

Hadrian scrambled to his feet. He tilted his head to observe the damage done to the room by his sudden presence, ignoring the portrait's delighted giggle behind him. When he realised that nothing could be done by a boy his age and his magical proficiency (or lack thereof), Hadrian breathed out and dropped onto the nearest sofa.

He knew that Aberforth would be here in a minute. It couldn't be any other way if one considered the wards attached to this room, which was special because of the picture adorning one of its walls.

Here, as if on cue, the door swung open.

"Who's there?" the unmistakeable gruff voice shouted.

"Glad to see you too, Aberforth," Hadrian greeted casually, trying to look as natural as possible given the circumstances.

Aberforth stopped in his tracks, the wand frozen in his wrinkly fingers. In a moment, the surprised reaction changed to the usual grumpiness and chronic frown. The old man put the wand away, then crossing his arms over the chest. Hadrian could make out dirty spots on the dark blue robes, guiltily looking away when he realised that Aberforth had probably run here from his usual bartender's place, convinced it was a thief.

"Boy," Aberforth greeted. "Finally decided to come visit me?"

"I couldn't do it earlier," Hadrian mumbled in reply. His long black hair, all ruffled and disorderly after the unexpected adventures of the evening, cast shadows on his eyes. He was glad. Guilt was eating him up from the inside, no matter how much he tried to squelch it.

"Want to drink?"

"Have you really just forgotten your principles and offered me a firewhiskey?"

"I meant tea, kid. Or water. Whatever you like more." Aberforth snorted and walked to the sofa Hadrian was sitting on. They didn't hug each other, even as the man took a seat near his charge. Neither of them believed in physical touches, and both felt this awkwardness enfold them whenever they tried.

Hadrian shrugged uncomfortably. "Water sounds good now."

Aberforth flicked his wand. After a mutter of a spell that Hadrian hadn't yet heard, unbroken glass filled with water. Another flick of wand later, and Hadrian was stretching his hand to grasp the glass.

"What's _this_?"

Hadrian blinked a couple of times and glanced at his hands. The fingers on one were coated in dried blood, while his other arm had small patches of skin grazed off it. The wound reminded Hadrian the ones other children in the orphanage had got from falling off a bicycle. He himself had never been allowed to ride one, but he had watched and remembered.

"A wound. It doesn't really hurt, so you shouldn't worry."

"Not worry? Boy, if I had any healing potions, I would've forced them all down yer throat right now!" Aberforth groused out, swinging his fist into the air for emphasis. Hadrian bit back a smile. It felt nice, having someone to care so much for him.

"Don't worry," Hadrian repeated slowly, and shook his head. "Ariana knows a bit of healing magic, right? I will resurrect her for a bit, and she will patch me up in no time."

Hadrian let out a grin.

"You sure?" Aberforth demanded sharply. Hadrian couldn't help but once again notice the difference between his eyes and Albus's. While the latter's twinkled, the former's hypnotised and demanded. "I don't want you to strain yourself."

"And I won't," Hadrian said calmly. His chin rose high as the boy put up a facade of confidence that didn't exist in reality. He didn't know his limits. He didn't know the repercussions of using his extraordinary magic. In the year of living here, in the Wizarding World, Hadrian still hadn't come to know many things, which scared him and made him grind his teeth in frustration at the same time. He wished to be useful and grow up already, skip all the pubescent stage of life and get immediately to the part where he commanded respect in others.

Aberforth observed him, looking for any sign of lying. Hadrian met his piercing, light blue gaze head on, nothing in expression wavering or betraying his real thoughts.

Finally, the old man nodded.

"I'll transport her 'ere." The owner of the Hog's Head rose and headed out of the room, not before throwing a quick spell to repair the broken glass. Hadrian watched, entranced, as the shards floated together, arranged themselves into the right form, and attached themselves to one another.

When the small miracle finished, Hadrian sipped his water. He let out a long breath of enjoyment when the cool liquid licked at his stomach, melting away the hotness of the night. He let his eyes wander.

'Tomorrow no one will be able to wake me up,' a thought passed his mind when Hadrian saw the time displayed on the nearest clock. Wizards didn't really need clocks, having convenient Tempus Charms, as he had found out, but they came in handy in decoration. Thus, most wizards had them.

"'Ere she is," Aberforth exhaled, storming into the room with the beautiful charmed coffin in his hands. Carefully, the old man lay the object down onto the thick carpet and stared expectantly up at Hadrian.

The boy finished his glass of water, and only then deigned to sit down near the coffin.

"One hour," Hadrian resurrected, feeling the longing in Aberforth's touches as the man traced the delicate wood up and down with his finger. "I'm afraid that even this will make me incoherent tomorrow, so you can't dream of a greater amount of time to spare." He looked at his fingers, refusing to look anywhere else.

"It's all right. I understand."

Hadrian took off the lid and gently lay it aside. It revealed the frail frame and delicate face of one of Hadrian's closest people. A small smile playing on his lips, Hadrian got to work.

The nostalgic mindscape opened to his mind's eye.

XXX

"You should have gone immediately to the mediwitch instead of here," Ariana Dumbledore chided lightly. Her angelic curls fell on her shoulder and azure eyes were glued to Hadrian's wound, from which they had extracted all pieces of clothing.

The boy himself was lying on the sofa, hair fanning out around his head and eyes half-lidded. Aberforth had gone off to serve the customers – there was going to be some important meeting in his pub this day, the one which suspiciously many heads of Dark families attended, and Aberforth couldn't miss it – thus leaving them alone.

Ariana herself was tending to Hadrian from her position on her knees near the sofa. Her gentle fingers traced the injury, but the touch healed instead of hurting.

"It tickles," Hadrian chuckled and threw his head back in laughter. Turning his head, he could see her eyes twinkling in merriment and a smile on her face mirroring his own.

"I cannot stop. Unless you want me to let it rest like this and get an infection in." Before Hadrian could say anything, she cut him off. "And even if you wanted the wound to stay, I still would have healed you. You should be more careful with your health."

"I try," Hadrian muttered and vaguely motioned his healthy hand. His sweet Ariana. If only she knew what damage her wakefulness inflicted on him...

"It's a pity I am not a professional healer," she lamented, her eyes downcast. She carefully worked on covering each inch of showing muscle with smooth skin. "The way I heal you now, it takes a lot of time you would have better spent sleeping and preparing for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow we don't have much," Hadrian admitted. He raised his right hand and observed the ceiling through the spread out fingers. "Just some Potions and Transfiguration."

"Tell me more about it," Ariana asked, looking up from his arm and into his eyes. Her teeth were nibbling on her bottom lip as she looked sideways. "I have never gone to Hogwarts. What is the castle like? Is it grand? Are there any ghosts? I have never seen a ghost. And subjects? What are your favourites? And which ones do you hate?"

"Please, stop swarming me with questions," Hadrian begged, throwing her a reproachful glance. "We haven't had all the subjects on my timetable yet, so I'll tell you all that the next time I come."

She bowed her head. Hadrian could make out her eyes beneath the blonde fringe, so he concentrated his attention on her lips and hands and other parts of body language.

"You rarely ever come anymore," she remarked quietly. Hadrian opened his mouth to retort but closed it again. She was telling the truth. "I know that now you will have your studies, and I am perfectly aware of how much you value training, and knowledge, and power. I don't want to take those things away from you."

She looked up, blue clashing with green. Her countenance earnest and pure, she said, "Don't make me into the bane of your existence. You shouldn't force yourself to come here every other day and babysit me. Please. I will be happier if we meet seldom but for a long while, like earlier."

Hadrian looked at his hands, lost.

"But Aberforth-"

"My brother cares about you as much as I do," Ariana admitted, a bright smile blooming on her face. "Maybe, even more so. Despite what you might think, he understands that priority should be given to a living person, not to a rotting corpse."

"Thank you," Hadrian whispered. When he felt a prickle of tears in his eyes, he turned away from the girl.

This acceptance of his weakness, of the fact that he didn't have yet the power to keep up school, his private training, research, and resurrection sessions all at once, meant more for him than she could ever imagine.

"Done!" she exclaimed brightly and clapped once. Her bright, bell-like giggle filled the room.

"Already?" Hadrian's eyes widened in surprise. He sat up and took a good look at his hand, noticing that no scar was left on the smooth surface of his skin. He continued rubbing his fingers against it, but no pain sprang at him, and no tissue tore apart. It was a good job. Clean and efficient.

"Thank you," he repeated, not minding when she hugged him in response.

"And now," she began, parting from him, her eyes as innocently bright as ever, "where is the comb? I want to smooth out all this atrocity you call hair!"

They spent the rest of the evening in bright chatter, trading childhood stories, and carefree laughter, while Ariana nimbly raked through his hair.

XXX

When Hadrian got to his bed, hair combed and wound closed, a Tempus showed almost four a.m.

He resigned to a mere two-hours sleep, crawling into the bed like a snail. As his head hit the cushion, his mind drifted back to all the things told and overheard this evening. Especially, he returned again and again to the timid werewolf and Dumbledore's saying about choices making people.

'Isn't it true?' Hadrian reflected, staring at the ceiling. 'Many would call me a monster, just for my ability. And I would have turned out so, if not for Milly and the friendship she showed me. And that werewolf didn't look like a raging beast at all...'

But more than anything, Hadrian's thoughts were plagued by Dumbledore's recounts of that other boy, the one who had been born a human yet had the heart of a beast.

'What has become of that boy, I wonder,' was the last thought crossing his mind, before sleep welcomed him into under its dreamless wings.


End file.
